


Remember Us

by TheBeckster



Category: Rune Factory (Video Games), Rune Factory 4
Genre: Amnesia Strikes Back, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking up and making up, F/M, Magical Pregnancy, No 3rd story arc AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Relationship Problems, Terribly inconvenient head trauma, assumed infidelity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24399616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBeckster/pseuds/TheBeckster
Summary: When a new god needs to be born into the world of humans, an old god has just the perfect candidate for the job. The perfect candidate agrees to the job. Terribly inconvenient head trauma complicates matters.
Relationships: Arthur & Dylas (Rune Factory), Arthur/Frey (Rune Factory), Frey & Forte (Rune Factory)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally posting my quarantine project babey!
> 
> So this fic and RF4 in general became my quarantine obsessions, and I'm pretty sure I wrote the first 30k of this in like 3 days. And then spent a much longer time revising and writing more. But like, I was ready to begin posting back at the beginning of April, and I'm only just now getting to it because it took that long to find a title. 
> 
> Some story notes: We're in an AU where there is no 3rd story arc as we know from the games. We're jumped ahead a few years after the end of the 2nd story arc. I'm playing fast and loose with headcanons, so be prepared for a lot of generous interpretation of little tidbits of canon info.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!  
> -Becks
> 
> Additional Content Warnings: depiction of physical injuries and bodily harm, blood, amnesia removing the memory of consenting to a magical pregnancy. Frey's gonna have a really bad day.

Frey had never particularly liked the caves beneath Yokmir Forest. In general, she didn’t care for caves all that much. She suspected she suffered a touch from claustrophobia, and had often wondered whether there was an accident in her childhood that was the root of her fear. But it had never stopped her from going beneath ground when necessary. It just made her skin crawl and put her a little on edge.

The Yokmir caves got her the worst. They didn’t run as deep underground as other cave systems and the roots of the forest above opened cracks in the rock that left the caves damp and warm. They were the perfect breeding ground for slimy molds and irritating insects, and a made a cozy home for plenty of monsters. And they were prone to unprovoked cave-ins.

Frey stopped at a deep crack in the cave floor and held her lantern high. The light barely penetrated the darkness of the chasm and only just illuminated the far side. One narrow, crumbling stretch of stone spanned the gap.

"That bridge doesn't look entirely stable," Frey cautioned, "Let me go first."

Neither of her companions looked particularly pleased, but both Forte and Vishnal knew better by now than to argue with her. After years of companionship and following her on various missions and monster hunts, they trusted Frey’s ability.

"Be careful, Princess," Vishnal said with a small nod.

Frey eyed the narrow stone bridge apprehensively. There was one part that looked a bit crumbly, worn thin by centuries of erosion and then a sudden increase in foot traffic. She wasn’t particularly eager to test the bridge, but there was a colony of goblins in the other side that had been getting very aggressive and harassing travelers recently. And the bridge was the only way to get to them in the vast caves stretching beneath Yokmir Forest.

Tentatively, she stepped onto the bridge, loose gravel shifted beneath her boots, but her steps were slow and sure. She crossed the thinnest part, the one she was most unsure of, and didn't even feel the slightest shift beneath her feet. She turned back.

"It's stable. You can cross."

Before Forte could take a step, a shriek drew their attention to the far side of the bridge. A small band of goblins had appeared from the shadows, armed and ready to fight.

Moving automatically, Frey chucked a couple fireballs at the group, hoping to scatter them before the archers could take aim. The goblins broke up to avoid her fireballs, but before Frey could clear the last several yards of the bridge, one goblin stepped forward. There was something small and round in its hand with a faint spark of red glowing in the center. The goblin threw the crude bomb at Frey. It exploded on contact with the stone at her feet.

The ground beneath her disappeared. The air turned white hot and blindingly bright. Frey felt the blast move through her, battering her. She screamed and fell and before she could gather her wits to Escape to safety, something hard hit her head, and everything went black.

* * *

Frey woke up in a sun dappled forest clearing. At first she thought it was Yokmir Forest, but something was wrong about this place. It was silent. There was no bird song, no insects in the trees, no sound of monsters skittering through the underbrush. She felt a breeze on her skin, but heard nothing of it rustling through the trees.

Had she gone deaf?

Panicked, Frey snapped her fingers by her ear. It rang sharp and clear in the uncanny silence.

"Oh, thank the gods," Frey said aloud, her voice echoing oddly in a place that should not have produced one.

She looked around, trying to get her bearings, and found her eyes drawn skyward. Where she expected clear blue to match the sunshine in her clearing, she saw nothing but darkness, a solid impenetrable black. There were no stars or moon. Not even a visible sun to produce the warm rays shining down on her.

"Where am I?" Frey asked aloud, in a tremulous voice. Suddenly overcome by vertigo, feeling as if she might float off into that emptiness above, Frey pressed closer to the ground, grabbing fistfuls of grass for the sake of something to hold onto.

"Frey." A familiar voice called to her; a _painfully_ familiar voice that filled her heart with joy and heartache at the same time.

Frey forgot the void above her and whipped around to look behind her. "Venti!"

Her dear friend, the great Native Dragon of the Wind rested in the grass behind her, basking in the warm sunlight. Frey wanted to run to her, to wrap her arms around that great head and hug her friend and never let go. But she faltered as she scrambled to her feet. "A-am I dead?"

"No, dear friend," Venti tilted her head, smiling gently.

"T-then this is a dream."

Ventuswill tilted her head in the other direction thoughtfully. "In a sense, yes. Aren't you sleeping?"

"No. I was attacked. I fell and hit my head." Frey reached up to touch the place on her head where she should have been hurt, even bleeding, but there was no pain and no blood.

"You always were getting into trouble," Venti said with a small laugh. "How many times did you get dragged back to the clinic after taking on a monster too powerful for you?"

Frey felt flush with sudden warmth, she missed Venti's teasing, and she very much wanted to give her old friend a hug. "If I touch you, will you vanish? Will I wake up?"

"No." Venti lowered her head.

Frey didn't need any more invitation. She rushed forward, wrapping her arms around the dragon's snout. Venti felt like she always had in life, the warm hardness of her scales, the tickle of her plumage, her breath fluttering Frey's clothing.

"I missed you so much," Frey whispered.

Venti's voice rumbled through her body. "You too, my friend." She pulled her head away when Frey's arms loosened. "How long has it been?"

"It's been five years since you left us." Frey said wiping at her eyes before the gathering tears could fall.

"How is everyone?"

"They miss you incredibly, but Selphia is flourishing." Frey knew what Venti wanted to hear. The dragon would be comforted to know her absence hadn't left people in despair and that the world had continue turning in her absence. The thing the Native Dragon had feared for so long had passed with no permanent consequence to the people she so dearly loved.

"It's nice to see you again, Venti, even if it is just a dream."

The dragon smiled down at her. "It's not just a dream, Frey. I have something to ask of you."

"Anything you need, I'll do it," Frey said quickly.

"Wait and hear me out. You may not be so eager to volunteer," Venti sighed, looking suddenly reluctant to continue.

"What is it?"

“I am afraid, once again, I have to call upon you to fix mistakes born of my own selfishness.” Venti turned her head away so Frey could not see her full expression. Her voice was tinged with bitterness and shame. “The natural world is unbalanced because of me. My lingering far longer than I ever should have, my interrupting the natural cycle of Native Dragon reincarnation has caused great repercussions on the natural order of Runes.” She sighed. “With the sacrifices the Guardians made for me, with the great amount of Rune Power required to sustain me, the Earth is not ready to support another Native Dragon of the Wind. But without me…” She shook her head. “Have you noticed recently an increase in aggressive monsters?”

Frey nodded, “I was asked to clear out a colony of goblins. They killed a traveling merchant last week.”

Monsters had bothered merchants before to plunder their wares, and on occasion they injured travelers, but killing was unheard of.

“That’s just the beginning,” Venti said mournfully, “If left unchecked things will spiral out of control. It won’t just be monsters thrown out of balance, the earth, skies and seas will be affected as well – to put it plainly, the world needs gods."

Frey furrowed her brow. "You mean, without all of the Native Dragons, the world will end?"

"Not quickly, it would take centuries for irreversible damage to be done to the Earth, but that's not a point we want to reach."

"So what do you want me to do? You said the Earth couldn’t sustain another Native Dragon."

“It still needs a new god. One who gives to the Runes rather than draws from them. They can restore much to the Earth simply by existing.” Venti’s eyes grew distant with memory. “They play a very important role as part of the Earth’s natural Rune cycle. Every few thousand years, they take their turn while the Native Dragons rest. They are part of the cyclical balance.”

“So, will this new god be another dragon?”

"Gods don't necessarily have to be dragons."

"They could be human or another type of monster? Who will I be looking for?"

"You're not _looking_ for anyone, Frey."

"But you were talking about the next god, how they have to keep the world from tearing itself apart again."

"Yes.”

"Then... I need to perform some ritual to summon them? Like opening a gate to the Forest of Beginnings? Or the Etherlink."

Venti shook her head. "Frey. When I was with you, I was a god in a mortal body. Without a body, I could not last long."

Frey's eyes widened in understanding. "They need to be born?"

"Just like everything else on Earth."

"And… and you're asking me to be the one to have them. Why me?"

"Frey, you are one of the most powerful Earthmates I ever met in my many years of life. There is an incredible depth of strength and magic within you. Bearing a god is something only an Earthmate could do." Venti then softened and smiled warmly. "And, I know your heart. Your capacity for love is boundless. You are kind and compassionate and brave and strong and intelligent. I can't think of anyone better to raise a god."

Frey warmed at the compliment. "You really think I'd make that a good mom?"

Frey had only passingly thought about children in the future... sometime in the _far_ future. After all, despite years of dancing around each other, she'd only recently started dating Arthur. And while she thought _finally_ he was the one, thoughts of starting a family, much less _being_ a family of two, were very far from her mind. They hadn’t even—

Frey shook herself, now was not the time to linger on such thoughts. "So... how would it work? You said there would be centuries before things got apocalyptic bad. So, would my firstborn be the god when I get around to having kids?

"Ahh... no. The new god would show up in about nine months."

Frey frowned up at the dragon. "Well... that will be difficult to explain."

"There is another caveat," Venti added reluctantly. "You won't remember this conversation."

"What?!"

Venti looked apologetic. "I'm afraid that is non-negotiable."

"B-but why?"

"Bad things happen when mortal beings believe themselves gods. You've seen that yourself."

"But _you_ knew."

"Frey, I thought I was nearing the end of my natural lifespan before I became a fully realized god. I grew up believing myself a mortal and normal. At least, as much as a magical dragon could be in the human world. It was a very long time before I came fully into my powers."

"Then... then... what am I supposed to do, except have a baby?"

"Raise them, Frey; teach them to be like you. The amazing person who took over the title of Princess on a whim because you wanted to help the people of Selphia, despite the fact that you didn't know them, or even know who you were."

"But what if I mess up? How can I be sure I'm raising them right, if I don't know what their destiny is?"

"Oh, Frey," Venti sighed smiling, "Do you know how many parents I knew who asked the exact same question about their children? Nobody knows who or what their child will become. Any baby could change the world, for good or bad, whether they be dormant gods or a humble farmer."

"So, they'd just be like a normal kid. And it'd be a normal pregnancy? No surprise god powers for me?" She asked with a playful smirk.

"Well, one last catch, there is a chance that while you carry the child, you won't be able to use magic."

"No magic?"

"Growing a god takes a lot of magic. They will draw heavily from you, much in the same as they will take nutrients. It is possible they will take it all."

"But would it come back after they were born?"

"Yes."

Frey fell silent, rubbing at her right arm. There was a low pain above her elbow, and her legs were aching. "I think I'm beginning to wake up. W-will I just b-be pregnant?"

"No, Frey. Nothing will happen to you unless you agree to it. If you don't want to do this, you won't have to. We can find another. What I'm asking of you if a very big sacrifice. And it'll be made only harder by forcing you to lose all memory of this encounter."

There was an ache now in Frey's left wrist. Not much time to make a decision. But Frey didn't have to think too hard. If it meant saving the world, carrying on Venti's legacy, doing what needed to be done to restore the natural order it would be worth it. Even if she didn't remember why it was happening to her. After everything she had been through in the last six years, this wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen.

"I'll do it."

Venti smiled. There was true joy in her eyes, but Frey also saw sadness. "What I ask of you is not easy. I'm sorry you have to go through this."

Frey opened her arms for a hug, and Venti bowed her head into the embrace. "This is my choice. I am agreeing to this. I just wish I could remember this, remember seeing you again. I miss you, Venti."

"I am always with you, Frey." Venti nudged her affectionately. "But it's time for you to rejoin the living world. You have a baby to prepare for."

The dull pain in her body grew in intensity. Frey's legs grew weak, and Venti helped lower her gently to the ground. The dragon rested her head in the grass next to Frey. Frey reached her hand out and placed it on Venti’s nose. The pain was near unbearable, and her head throbbed so painfully, her vision went dark with each pulse. She was fading fast.

Venti rolled her head towards Frey, and as her eyes slid closed for the last time, she heard the dragon whisper, "Thank you, my friend."

* * *

"Forte! I found her!" Vishnal scrambled over the rubble, his lantern bobbing haphazardly as he rushed for the body half-buried beneath rubble.

The dragon knight was at his side in mere seconds, both working quickly to excavate their princess.

"Be careful, she might have broken something." Vishnal cautioned as Forte pressed her ear to Frey's chest.

"She's still breathing, and I feel a pulse." She looked to the butler. "You're better at magic. Take us home."

Vishnal took a firm grip of both Forte and Frey and closed his eye for a second. The magic gathered around them and then disappeared like the afterimage of lightning in the night sky. They were standing outside the gates of Selphia.

Forte had Frey cradled in her arms. "Run ahead to Jones. I'll be right behind you."

Vishnal took off at a sprint and quickly disappeared. It was late evening, a cold drizzle was falling, and the town square was blessedly empty.

Forte made it halfway to the clinic before she was intercepted by an entourage of Nancy, Dolce, and Vishnal.

"Jones is getting ready," Nancy explained, her hands flying over the unconscious princess with clinical precision. She gave particular attention to Frey’s head wound.

Inside the clinic, a stone-faced Jones was waiting with a bed ready. As soon as Frey was deposited into the doctor's care, Forte and Vishnal were ushered out past the privacy screens and left under Dolce's watchful eye.

"Are either of you hurt?" Dolce offered as a hopeful distraction.

"A few scrapes and bruises," Vishnal offered, "but we weren't the ones who got blown up and thrown down a chasm."

Dolce tended to their minor wounds, which unfortunately didn't take very long. The three of them were left to interminable waiting, staring at the screens, straining to discern anything from the mutters and shadows of Jones and Nancy. They jumped when the clinic door swung open, revealing a wide-eyed Volkanon with an alert and scared Clorica in his wake.

"What has happened to Princess Frey?" The head butler demanded.

Vishnal and Forte were quick to explain, and it was only after they stumbled through their explanation that Forte paused and then said, "Wait, who told you Frey was hurt?"

Dolce answered, her voice low and annoyed. "Pico."

The ghost girl appeared beside her. (Forte only jumped a little at the sudden apparition.) She at least looked sheepish. "I thought that Mr. Volkanon should know. And well... Clorica was right there so..."

"It's been fifteen minutes. Who else have you told?"

"N-nobody."

"Pico."

"Well, I thought her boyfriend should know too."

"And who was he with?"

"He was eating dinner at the restaurant."

Dolce sighed sharply. "You are going to stay where I can see you at all times."

The clinic door burst open again letting a pale, shaken Arthur into the clinic. He didn't even see the others as he walked automatically toward the screens.

Volkanon stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. The real prince whipped towards the butler, ready to snap at him.

"We have to wait until the doctor is finished."

"Right." Arthur, usually so collected and unflappable, nodded and let Volkanon lead him to a chair.

Time passed in silence, nobody speaking for long stretches, until finally Doctor Jones stepped out from behind the curtain.

"We've done what we can. Physically, she fared as well as can be expected. There is no internal bleeding, but she had broken her right arm and both her legs. Her head injury is the greatest cause for concern. We won't know how much damage was done until she regains consciousness."

"Would a Cure spell help?" Arthur asked.

"It may speed her recovery, but in her current state, I'm hesitant to bring magic into the mix. Frey is already very magically inclined; I don't know what flooding her system will do."

"Can I see her?"

"Yes." Jones stepped aside to let him pass.

Frey, unconscious and covered head to toe in bandages, looked small and pathetic. There was nothing of the vivacious and stubborn woman to be seen. Nancy stepped aside and turned her back to give Arthur as much privacy as she could afford.

He perched on the edge of the bed and gently touched Frey's cheek. It must have been one hell of a fall; she was turning into one big bruise. “Come back to me, darling,” he whispered. “Just wake up, and I'll make it better.”

* * *

Nancy chased the others out of the clinic with instructions to go home and rest – for Forte and Vishnal – and to do what they could to mitigate rumors – for Volkanon and Clorica. Still, by the time the sun was fully up the next morning the entire town seemed to believe that Princess Frey was on the brink of death in the clinic. Dolce had set out with Pico to enlist Forte in turning away any visitors and well-wishers at the clinic doors – by force if necessary.

“Any change?” Nancy asked, handing a hot mug of tea to Arthur. She had only been gone long enough to brew a pot of tea, she already knew the answer.

Arthur shook his head, taking the mug automatically. “Nothing.” He had been sitting at Frey’s bedside all night, holding her unbroken hand in his and hardly looking away for fear he might miss a stirring, or a sign of decline. Either Nancy or Jones had been with him all night, watching just as hawkishly.

“Her vitals look good, and she’s having no difficulty breathing,” Nancy offered, “And Jones just checked her head injury again. He doesn’t think there’s been any severe brain damage. Frey might even be doing a little bit of healing on her own that we can’t even see.”

Arthur managed a strained smile. He knew magic by the book. He wasn’t like Frey or other mages who had an extra sense for magic. If Frey was unconsciously healing herself, he couldn’t tell. “She always does things her own way.”

Nancy returned the smile. “It’s why we love our princess.” She put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Jones is reaching out to healer mages for assistance if she does not show any improvement by midday.”

“I have contacts in the capital. I can get the royal family’s mage. She’s the best I know.”

“I’ll tell Jones. Right now we have to be patient. Are you hungry? Can I get you anything while you wait?”

“No, thank you,” Arthur shook his head. “I don’t have an appetite right now.” He turned back to watch Frey. The mug of tea had already been forgotten in his free hand, it sat nearly spilling on his lap.

Nancy grabbed the mug before it could fully tip over and scald the prince’s legs. “Drink the tea. Nurse’s orders.”

“Right, thank you.” Arthur took the mug back and dutifully took a sip.

Satisfied, Nancy turned away to see how Forte and Dolce were doing at the clinic doors.

Arthur took a few sips of the tea, but found he couldn’t quite stomach the blend at the moment. He supposed this was what it meant to be sick with worry. He set the tea aside and reached for a bowl on the bedside table. Jones had put together a medicated mixture that would help heal Frey’s superficial injuries a little faster, ease the pain, and stave off infection. It could be applied hourly, and Arthur had been watching the clock. He gave Frey’s hand a gently squeeze before letting go to hold the bowl.

The now familiar smell of the medicated brew stirred Arthur into fuller wakefulness as he wrung out the cloth and gently began bathing Frey’s face. He was exhausted, physically and mentally as this had accidentally become his second straight night without sleep. His eyes were so tired they hurt, and it took more than a few blinks to clear his bleary vision. Even his ears and nose hurt where his glasses rested with no reprieve. But he wouldn’t and couldn’t rest until he knew Frey was going to pull through.

He almost missed the minute movements of Frey’s face as he wiped the cloth gently across her bruised cheek. He blinked to be sure it wasn’t just his tired eyes seeing things, but Frey was moving. Her brow furrowed, her eyelids fluttered, her mouth pulled into a grimace.

“Frey?” Arthur asked breathlessly, he quickly set the cloth and bowl on the table and grabbed her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Are you coming back?”

Her fingers twitched in response to his squeeze. An attempt to return the gesture.

“Nancy!” Arthur called, rocketing from his seat to pull the screen aside. “She’s waking up!”

The nurse had been standing in the open doorway, talking to her two bouncers. She whipped around at Arthur’s call and rushed over, only pausing a moment to call up the stairs to summon Jones.

In just the few seconds he had been looking away, Frey had begun to show more signs of life. Not much, but enough to show she was waking. Jones came running down the stairs, pulling his doctor’s coat back on over the same clothes he had been wearing the night before.

Arthur stepped aside as the doctor and nurse descended upon Frey. He wanted to be right there next to her, holding her hand, but he knew better than to get in their way.

* * *

Frey opened her eyes, greatly confused as to why Jones was hovering just above her face. Was she in the clinic? It had been years since she’d been weak and reckless enough to let a monster get the better of her that badly. It took her a moment to realize Jones was speaking to her.

“Can you hear me?”

“Yes.” She tried nodding, but her body felt like one big pain.

“Try not to move. You were hurt very badly. Only talk.”

“Okay.” Frey blinked. Even that hurt.

“Do you know your name?”

“Frey.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Selphia. The Tiny Bandage Clinic.” Frey frowned. Why was Jones asking her these stupid questions?

“Do you know what day it is?”

Frey had to think. She had clearly been unconscious for a while. “How long was I out?”

“Overnight,” Jones supplied.

“Then… today’s the Fishing Frenzy, isn’t it?”

Jones shared a very significant look with Nancy. “Frey,” he began gently, but professionally, “That festival was almost two weeks ago.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, when I started writing this fic, I hadn't settled on Frey's beau yet. While I was playing RF4 I used a random number generator to decide who to date first and it told me Arthur, and when I got through some of his events he was too perfect to not pick for this story. Needless to say, I'm going to have fun picking on my faves for a little while.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frey learns something new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm going to post chapters on a weekly basis" I told myself, you know, like a liar. Regular Posting schedule? I don't know her.
> 
> Anywho, I hope you all enjoy! Things are gonna be exciting in the next chapter.
> 
> -Becks

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Frey never felt quite right after her fall. She expected the recovery process to be a bit longer than normal, considering she had never taken a beating like that before without an immediate Cure or potion on hand, but...

Her broken bones had been mended magically and Jones' medicine should have put her right. Arthur's extra Cure spell should have been the cherry on top that got her back to her old self. She spent a couple extra days in the clinic for observation, and to be sure that she had _only_ lost two weeks of memory, and nothing important. She remembered everything from her crash landing into Selphia six years ago, and all of the important moments that had happened since then. But just as her life before Selphia was a complete blank, so were the last two weeks.

Fortunately, people were happy to help fill in what blanks they knew. Nothing really monumental had happened; though Frey was annoyed that she couldn’t remember _finally_ beating Dylas in a fishing contest. Life in Selphia had been as it always was; peaceful and the people were happy to rely on their not-really-a-princess Earthmate as their de facto town leader. And while Frey’s accident had been upsetting to the residents, life went back to normal pretty quickly.

Except for Frey.

Over a month had passed, and she felt worse. Her wounds had healed perfectly, save for some lingering weakness and an ache in her mended bones when it rained. Such things were expected, and even that would pass as her body caught up to the magic holding her together. But she was constantly fatigued, the smallest tasks took so much effort, and she found herself suddenly prone to bouts of vertigo and nausea. Jones and Nancy hadn’t mentioned anything about this being part of the recovery.

Never mind that over the last month she couldn't conjure even the slightest spark of magic – something that was second nature to her. Selphia was a little short on fully trained mages, but Jones’ best guess was that her body was diverting her own magic to aid in the healing and recovery process. Her magic would probably return after another month or two.

Frey rubbed at the stubbly patch on the back of her head, where her hair was slowly beginning to grow back over the scar. Maybe this wasn’t part of the recovery process. Maybe she had gotten more brain damage than originally thought. Losing two whole weeks of time was bad enough, but Frey was used to amnesia by now. This was something entirely different, and it scared her.

After barely making it through a morning of light chores – it was raining, she didn’t even need to water her fields and nothing was ripe for harvesting – Frey decided it was time to go back to see Jones and Nancy. After trying to wait it out for a while, she didn’t think this was a problem that was going to go away on its own.

Much to her relief, Jones didn’t think that her symptoms were a result of her accident. Whatever they did suspect was wrong with her they refused to speculate openly until they ran a couple of tests. Jones left Nancy to do a blood draw while he set up the diagnostic tests.

Nancy asked Frey a couple more personal questions – ones that didn’t necessarily need to wait until Jones left the room, but Frey had always come to Nancy for feminine health before, so it wasn’t unexpected. No, she hadn’t gotten her period since her accident, but that wasn’t unheard of. Frey’s had always been a little unpredictable and often skipped a month or two even when she hadn’t been sexually active in quite some time. No, she wasn’t currently sexually active, and well… she couldn’t speak for her missing two weeks, but Arthur hadn’t tried to initiate anything that might have suggested they’d had sex before. She could ask him later to be sure.

With her blood drawn and the usual questions answered, Nancy left Frey alone for a few minutes to run whatever tests Jones wanted. She waited for about ten minutes before Frey heard a set of feet descend the stairs and Dolce left the clinic with Pico trailing behind her.

“Why do we have to leave now?” Pico moaned.

“Because, I think I fancy a very long walk,” Dolce said sharply, opening her umbrella as she stepped into the cold spring rain.

“But it’s raining…” Pico whined.

“You’re a ghost, you can’t get wet.”

The clinic door closed behind them with a soft ring of the bell. Frey waited another five minutes, growing suspicious of Dolce’s sudden departure – or perhaps it was more appropriate to call it Pico’s kidnapping. Was it bad news? Was that why the town’s voyeuristic ghost was being taken far away from the clinic?

Nancy came back alone, a carefully constructed neutral expression on her face.

“It’s bad, isn’t it,” Frey asked immediately.

“It’s… not ideal,” the nurse offered.

“Am I dying?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that!” Nancy offered a small smile. “You are pregnant, though.”

“What?”

“It is still very early. It must have happened during your two lost weeks.”

“Oh.” Frey chewed on her bottom lip. Pregnant? She and Arthur had only been dating for a couple months. What was he going to say? What was she going to do? She wasn’t ready for a child yet.

Nancy took Frey’s hands in hers. Frey hadn’t realized they were shaking. She stared down intently at them rather than meet Nancy’s eyes.

“I know it’s a lot to take in. And it’s even harder with your amnesia.” Nancy patted her hands. “Would you like Jones or me to talk to Arthur?”

“What?” Frey’s head shot up. “Why?”

“It’s tricky news to break. And while I‘m sure Arthur will be nothing but princely, when something like this is so unexpected, it might be easier to have another person to help explain. If it’s his baby—“

“Then I should be the one to tell him,” Frey finished. She stood up from the bed, her legs a lot steadier than she felt at the moment. “Can I go? Is there anything else you need from me today?”

“No,” Nancy said carefully, “You should go home and rest for a little bit. Anything else can wait until tomorrow. Can I call on you at the castle, or would you rather come back to the clinic?”

“Can you come to the castle, around ten? I’ll be done with chores by then.”

“I’ll see you then.” Nancy took Frey’s arm and escorted her to the clinic door. “I know this feels all very unreal right now, but give it time to sink in. And it’s still very early; nobody needs to know who you don’t want to tell. If you need anything, I’m always here for you.”

“Thank you, Nancy.” Frey gave her a weak smile before stepping outside.

Back in her chambers at the castle, Frey took to pacing her bedroom, chewing nervously on a fingernail. She almost wanted to run and tell Arthur right away, but it was the middle of the day, he was going to be busy with work for quite some time, and she wanted to do it right. Particularly considering she wasn’t even completely certain she was pregnant with Arthur’s child. Since her accident, their relationship had been relatively chaste and completely sexless, and she wasn’t sure if they were taking things easy because of her accident, or just taking things slow in general.

Frey didn’t have any qualms about premarital sex, but Arthur had his reservations. When raised as royalty, sexual responsibility was something his tutors spent quite a lot of time hammering in. Even as thirteenth in line for the throne, a scandal was still a scandal. Put plainly, the Royal Family didn’t have _accidents_.

She growled with frustration, rubbing at the stubbly patch on the back of her head again. There was so much uncertainty missing two whole weeks of time. If she and Arthur had slept together, great, problem solved! And she never thought herself one to be unfaithful to a lover, but what if she _was_? What if she had initiated a secret tryst behind Arthur’s back.

What if it was someone in town? She had dated other men before, but they had split up with little heartbreak and mutual respect for each other. She still considered her exes her friends. It was hard not to after everything their town had been through together. And… well when Frey was single it wasn’t unheard of for her to bring someone into her bed when it felt a little cold and empty.

But she wouldn’t have done that if she was dating Arthur, right? She had never once considered being unfaithful in any of her past relationships. And dating Arthur was so different from anyone before. She’d never felt for anyone like she did for Arthur. She couldn’t have done something like cheat on him.

Damnit! If only she hadn’t had her accident!

Something sparked in Frey’s memory. Not from her lost two weeks, but perhaps a clue. Of the items and clothing that had been salvageable after her fall was a silver bracelet that Frey hadn’t recognized. Nancy told her she had been wearing it when Forte carried her in. Frey assumed it had been a gift or something she forged for herself during her lost days. Arthur hadn’t recognized it, and neither Bado nor the local jewelry merchant claimed their handiwork, so she had tucked it away in her jewelry box. It was a pretty thing, a twisted loop of silver vines that was adorned with leaves or flowers, but she had barely looked at it before putting it away. She didn’t usually wear jewelry for her everyday life.

Frey pulled the bracelet out from her jewelry box and sat down to examine it closer. The crafting was exquisite, better than she could have made on her own. Upon closer inspection, she realized that the leaves and flowers were actually feathers and plumes, and spaced intermittently around the bracelet were strange symbols. Frey thought she might have seen something like them around Leon Karnak or the Water Ruins. Was it ancient Earthspeak?

She bent closer for a better look and caught something inscribed on the inside of the bracelet. Similar looking script to the symbols on the outside, but grouped regularly. It was clearly a message of some kind.

Frey clasped the bracelet tightly in her hand, she knew one man in town who could possibly interpret the writing on the bracelet. If it was a clue to her lost time, she needed to know. Or at the very least, Leon could verify that it was just an artifact she had found and picked up.

She found the guardian lounging around the Bell Hotel lobby, chatting with some of the merchants who frequently stayed at the inn during their travels. Frey recognized the fishmonger and Barret.

“Afternoon, Frey,” Leon offered as she approached. “What brings you over?”

“I have a mystery you might be able to solve.”

Leon half smirked. “Don’t say that too loud, Illuminata just walked into the bath.” He paused and his smirk widened. “On second thought, luring her out here might be fun. Wanna repeat that?”

“Ha ha,” Frey replied humorlessly. “Unfortunately for you, Lumie doesn’t read ancient Earthspeak.” She held out the silver bracelet.

Leon’s ears perked and his eyes sparked with curiosity as he took the bracelet. He turned it over, examining every inch of it with sharp eyes. “Curious,” he mused aloud. “Where did you find this?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Huh… it is ancient Earthspeak, but a dialect I am unfamiliar with. I’d have to check my texts to get a reliable translation.” He scrutinized the bracelet. “It doesn’t look very old. I mean, if it was an artifact of its time, it would be well over a thousand years old, and unless it was meticulously cared for over the last thousand years, it would not look this good. What do you think?” he held the bracelet out to Barret.

“I don’t recognize the symbols either.” He took it and gave it a close look over. “Looks near new, hardly been worn. There’s not even the slight wearing you would expect to see on something that had been worn for a while.”

Frey shrugged. “It’s been in my jewelry box for the last month, before that I can’t account for its whereabouts.”

“Interesting,” Barret handed the bracelet back to Leon. “You know, it’s possible a jeweler somewhere has a hobby in ancient Earthspeak and is selling the pieces for the aesthetic. Kids in the capital go crazy for all sorts of weird trends.”

“There’s an inscription on the inside,” Frey pointed for Leon.

“Ahh,” he said, “Now this looks a little more familiar. Still not my dialect, but it has the same sentence structure.” He stood up, still studying the bracelet intently. “Come on up to my room, I should have something that can help translate this.”

He took off without looking and nearly ran into Xaio Pai who was balancing a stack of clean towels and robes for the baths. If Frey hadn’t been following right behind and on hand to help steady her, Xaio Pai surely would have fallen and gotten the clean robes dirty – something which she spent a good minute informing Frey of and thanking her for.

Frey caught up to Leon in his room, and he hardly seemed to notice her presence. He was nose deep in a heavy tome, alternating between checking the book, writing notes, and examining the bracelet. Frey let him work in peace and sat in the spare chair to wait.

In less time than she expected it to take, Leon closed the heavy book with a thud and pulled out his sheet of handwritten notes. “I’ve got a translation. The Earthspeak was even older than most of my texts, but I was able to find a codex for reference.” He held up the bracelet and pointed to one of the characters inscribed on the outside. “These are used more symbolically than literally. The ten of them are different virtues, it seems. This one is patience, this one bravery, love, kindness, justice, faith, wit, resilience, strength, and compassion. Presumably put there like charms or reminders for the wearer to practice the virtues. Pretty standard stuff.”

Frey nodded, that concept wasn’t exactly unheard of for jewelry or clothing. Sometimes crafters would imbue magic into their items, other times they did so less literally. “What does the inscription on the inside say?”

“ _Remember, you agreed to this._ ” Leon read. “Kinda threatening without context.”

“Yeah,” Frey said, feeling suddenly chilled to her core. She resisted the urge to lay a hand over her abdomen. _You agreed to this_. That couldn’t possibly be related to her current circumstances. There was no way a mysterious piece of jewelry just magically knew before she did that she was pregnant.

Leon handed the bracelet over with a shrug, his intrigue gone now that the mystery had been solved. “It must have been an inside joke or specific message to whoever was supposed to get the bracelet. It’s not exactly your generic love note inscription.”

“Yeah, must be.” Frey took the bracelet and tucked it back into her pocket. “I’ll ask around and see if anyone knows who it might belong to. If it’s special, I’d hate for it to be missing for too long.

“You do that, Frey, let me know how it works out.” Leon stretched out and folded his arms behind his head, showing no intention of getting up any time soon.

Frey stood up to leave. “Thanks for the help, Leon.”

“Any time.”

With the bracelet to chew over, Frey kept finding excuses to avoid going to see Arthur all afternoon. First she had to return the bracelet to her jewelry box, then she had to go around town putting out word of the lost bracelet – though she really didn’t expect that to provide any leads. After running around in the cold rain all day, she needed a warm bath and dry clothes. After that she was utterly exhausted and found herself curled up on her bed taking a nap before she could find a reason not to.

Her nap didn’t last long though, as she was shaken awake by a concerned Volkanon, asking if she had fallen ill or lost consciousness. He had been watching her with extra care since her accident. Frey sent him off, explaining that she was just tired, that was all. He apologized and left her to rest, but Frey was fully awake by that point and thinking again. The last hour of the afternoon slipped away as she stared up at the ceiling, desperately trying to remember _anything_ from her lost two weeks.

Volkanon came back to wake her and remind her she was supposed to meet Arthur for dinner.

“Did you rest well, Princess?” he asked, laying out her freshly laundered and dried rain cloak.

“It was okay,” Frey said quietly, rubbing some stiffness from her neck.

Volkanon regarded her sharply. “Are you certain? You don’t look entirely well. If you would rather stay home this evening, I can send Vishnal with the message. Sir Arthur would understand.”

“I’m fine. I just didn’t sleep well last night.”

Frey right then almost wanted to tell Volkanon she was pregnant. He’d been something like a father during her time in Selphia, as much as he was also her head butler. He was much older and had a lifetime of experience that she didn’t. Maybe he would have some wise words of comfort for this sudden change in her life.

Who she really wished she could talk to was Venti. Her heart ached with that thought. Some days she missed her oldest friend so badly it hurt.

Frey shook herself. The first person she would tell about the baby was Arthur. It was only right he be the first to know. He, hopefully, had a very simple answer to Frey being pregnant and not knowing how it had happened.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Frey's terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day continues and Arthur learns something new.

**Chapter 3**

Arthur knew something was on Frey’s mind as soon as she walked through the door. Her eyes were skipping around his office, landing anywhere but on him as she took off her cloak and muttered a greeting.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, cupping her trouble face in his hands.

“I need to talk to you,” Frey said quietly. “Privately.”

Arthur frowned. It wasn’t often Frey kept herself hidden behind closed doors. On date night, they usually dined together in the restaurant’s dining room, or if they wanted something a little more intimate at the small table Arthur kept in his office. But neither of those places were exactly private, and he had a sense that whatever she wanted to talk about she didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing.

“We can go upstairs to my room. I can ask them to bring our dinner up. Do you still want dinner?”

Frey shrugged and nodded. “Yeah sure.”

“What would you like?”

“Something light. I’m not all that hungry.”

Arthur frowned again. It wasn’t often Frey didn’t have a hearty appetite after spending a long day working the farmland or hunting monsters. “Are you sick?” He felt her forehead automatically. She didn’t have a temperature, but she looked a bit pale. “We don’t have to have date night if you don’t feel well.”

“I really just need to talk to you.” Frey muttered, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Okay. Go ahead upstairs. I’ll be up after I put in our order.”

She gave him a nervous smile before turning for the stairs. Arthur waited for her to disappear up the stairs before turning to the door that separated his office from the restaurant. It was still early, so there weren’t many diners yet. He placed an order with Dylas, and the waiter agreed to bring their food up when it was ready.

Dylas, having picked up a couple mannerisms from their host over his time living in the De Sainte-Coquille manor, gave Arthur a small wink and a nudge, “Cozy plans tonight, huh.”

“Quiet plans.” Arthur said a bit sharply. He didn’t mean to be rude, but as soon as he’d seen Frey’s troubled expression, him mind had conjured at least a hundred worst case scenarios for why she would feel this way. Topping the list was the end of their relationship for no less than ten different reasons Arthur was at fault for.

Bedroom suites in the De Sainte-Coquille manor were spacious, and comfortably furnished, with a parlor separated entirely from the sleeping area of the suite. Over the years, Arthur’s parlor had become filled with bookshelves, display cases for his eyeglass collection, and some of the cuter or more personal gifts given by customers and friends. The furniture though, was all of Porcoline’s choosing, and it reflected the chef’s tastes more than Arthur’s.

Frey was waiting on the blue paisley loveseat, perched on the edge as if she might bolt at a moment’s notice. Her hands fidgeted incessantly.

“Do you want me to leave the door open?” Arthur asked from the doorway, feeling uneasy and trapped himself just by picking up Frey’s body language.

“Um, open is fine.” Frey again, didn’t look at him as he took his seat. Arthur sat beside her on the loveseat, keeping enough distance to not crowd Frey, but close enough to require direct eye contact.

“What did you order?” Frey asked.

“Some soup and salad. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah. Sounds fine.” Frey shut her mouth tight.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

Frey chewed her bottom lip for a moment, staring intently at her tightly folded hands in her lap. “It’s, um… it’s about those two weeks of time I can’t remember.”

“Did you remember something?”

“No,” Frey shook her head, “Those two weeks are still completely blank.”

“What do you think you’ve forgotten?” Arthur had been happy to supply Frey’s memory where he could of her lost time.

“Did we… have we had sex yet?”

Arthur almost laughed. That’s what was bothering her? She was just afraid she had forgotten their first time together. While he understood the importance of such an event, and why it would bother Frey so much to forget, the thought hadn’t even made his list of what she wanted to discuss.

“No, we, ah, we haven’t been intimate yet.” Despite himself, he felt his cheeks flush slightly at the thought. Oh, to not be a Prince of Norad and be expected to stringently follow certain rules.

“Oh.”

Where he expected Frey to look relieved, she looked dejected, her shoulders slumped.

“That’s a problem.”

“What’s a problem?”

Frey looked up and, for the first time all evening, looked him dead in the eye. There were tears in her eyes. “I’m pregnant.”

“What?”

“I found out earlier. Gods!” Frey dropped her face into her hands with a sob. “I wished so hard that it was yours and this was going to have an easy answer.”

Arthur felt himself go cold. “Well if it’s not mine, then whose is it?!”

“I don’t know.” Frey looked up, her eyes were wide and earnest even as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I swear, Arthur, I have no idea.”

“Were you attacked?”

“No. I-I don’t think so. Nancy didn’t say anything about it. And if I had been during my lost time, I would have gone to her. I know I would have.”

“Well then, who the hell is it?”

“I don’t know!” Frey wailed. “All I know is that before I lost my memory, I had absolutely no intention of going behind your back, and after my accident I’ve only spent time with you. I can’t account for anything during those two weeks”

Arthur launched himself from his seat and took to pacing. It could be anyone. In her time in Selphia, Frey had dated half the eligible bachelors in town, and kindled feelings in the other half. And while it didn’t matter to him, he knew she wasn’t a virgin, and he knew well enough that when she wasn’t dating she wasn’t opposed to a commitment-free hook up.

“What the hell, Frey? How could you do something like that?”

“I don’t know. Arthur, I’m so sorry, I wish I knew. I wish I had an explanation.”

Arthur stopped pacing, took off his glasses, rubbing at his eyes. “Being sorry _now_ doesn’t help much, does it? Even if you can’t remember who, that doesn’t change the fact it happened.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Frey held her forehead with one hand. Her words were thickly laced with bitterness. “This would all be so much easier if I knew who to go to; if I had a name for the man who was responsible for the baby.”

Arthur didn’t get a chance to reply, as the sound of heavy footsteps in the hall outside brought them to a sudden silence. A few seconds later, Dylas appeared in the doorway with a full tray.

“Ah, food’s here,” the waiter said awkwardly, not at all blind to Frey crying, or Arthur’s uncharacteristically furious expression.

“Just leave it on the desk,” Arthur gestured sharply to the closest surface to the door.

“Right.” Dylas deposited the tray quickly. His eyes went back and forth between Frey and Arthur, and the Prince could tell from the stillness of his tail and the nervous back-twitch of his ears he was on edge. Dylas opened his mouth a couple times, almost saying something, before catching Arthur’s sharp eye and beating a hasty and silent retreat.

Arthur knew Dylas had overheard something. Was he simply nervous because he had walked in on an extremely personal and heated discussion, or was he concerned for his own wellbeing? It was no secret that Dylas and Frey, despite not having dated for five years, were occasionally still lovers.

For good measure, Arthur closed the door behind Dylas to avoid any more potential eavesdroppers. When he turned back to Frey, she had stemmed her tears and was hugging herself tightly.

“I’m sorry, Arthur,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I never thought I would ever be the type of person who would cheat on her boyfriend.” Her arms tightened and she almost bowed over entirely. “You must hate me.”

Arthur froze. He didn’t _hate_ Frey. He was furious and heartbroken and feeling the most confusing mix of emotions he’d ever known, but he didn’t think hatred was one of them. He knew what hatred felt like. This wasn’t it. How could he hate the woman he loved so dearly, even if she had willingly cheated on him, and was now pregnant with another man’s child?

He stared at Frey, trembling with the effort of holding back her tears and her shame and guilt and self-loathing. He could see so clearly in her face how much she hated herself in this moment. Arthur took a moment to put himself in her shoes. Not only had she discovered she was pregnant before ever planning to be, but had also learned that the man she so desperately hoped was the father wasn’t. And perhaps worst of all, she couldn’t remember who the real father was, or even if she had consented to the possibility of getting pregnant.

Arthur sat gingerly next to Frey on the loveseat and hesitantly reached an arm around her shoulders. If Arthur was her, he would really want a hug right about now. Frey leaned willingly into the touch and Arthur was able to pull her into a full embrace. He tucked her head beneath his chin as she sobbed into his chest, and wrapped his arms around her.

Beneath the surface, his anger still simmered, but at the moment it wasn’t fair to take it out on Frey. She needed a friend right now, she needed comfort. This problem wasn’t something that could be worked through in one night, anyway.

* * *

Dylas kept even quieter than usual for the rest of the evening. Sometimes he _really_ hated his dumb monster senses! It wasn’t like he intentionally eavesdropped on Arthur and Frey, but their voices were carrying through the open door and he had very sharp hearing. He hadn’t heard the full argument, but what he caught was enough to paint the full picture.

Frey was pregnant and the baby was not Arthur’s.

Oh hell, scandal like that could turn the whole town on its head if word got out and rumors spread. Dylas, fortunately, had never been prone to gossip, and while there were certain things he had confided in Porcoline about, this was absolutely none of his business, and not something he would ever breathe a word about to anyone except the informed parties.

He just thought Arthur was lucky that Dylas had been the one he caught for his dinner order. If Meg had overheard, she would have told Porcoline – not out of desire to gossip, but for need of advice with how to handle her friends’ turmoil and secret. And if Porcoline knew, half of Norad would know the secret by dinner tomorrow.

Dylas, as usual, was left alone at the end of the night to complete the final cleanup from dinner. Meg had gone home after the last customers. Porcoline had retired for the night after he finished cleaning up the kitchen. Arthur hadn’t made a reappearance, but Dylas hadn’t expected him to. If he was in the Prince’s shoes, he would have let Frey sneak out the back door and then spent the rest of the night sulking in his rooms too. He certainly wouldn’t be in the mood to talk to anyone about this until he had time to adjust. Hell, he probably wouldn’t even talk about it at all, unless forced to.

But Arthur wasn’t Dylas. Arthur would probably want a friend to talk to. Still, Dylas thought it would be best to wait and find Arthur until tomorrow morning.

The tables had all been wiped down, every last dish had been scrubbed immaculately clean, and the floors were swept and mopped. Dylas flicked off the dining room lights and turned to make his way up the stairs in the dark when a glimmer of light caught his eye. The light was still on in Arthur’s office and peeking through the rack under the door. Dylas sighed and turned around to get it. Arthur’s penchant for leaving his office open to the public meant more often than not the lights got left on long after closing time.

He froze in the doorway. He hadn’t been expecting to find Arthur awake and working at his desk at this late of an hour, particularly considering the evening he had just had.

“Oh, uh, I thought the light had been left on,” Dylas offered awkwardly.

Arthur gave him an unreadable look, but gestured mutely for Dylas to fully enter the room before turning back to whatever documents he was poring over.

Knowing this confrontation was inevitable, Dylas stepped over to the desk.

“How much did you overhear?” Arthur asked, still reading.

“Enough to get the full picture.” Dylas grimaced. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. And also… I’m sorry again. That really sucks.”

“Why are you sorry?” Arthur looked up sharply, glaring, “You’re not the father, are you?”

Dylas held up his hands in surrender. “No way. Frey and I haven’t… y’know… in a couple years. Long before you two started dating.”

Arthur sighed and hung his head in defeat. “What am I supposed to do?”

Dylas thought he was entirely unqualified to give advice on a situation like this, but he tried thinking of what cooler and wiser heads would offer. Advice Arthur might have given if he was the one being asked for help. “Nothing rash, y’know. Don’t say or do anything you’ll regret.”

“I don’t think I’m the one who needs a lecture on rash decisions.”

Dylas shrugged and crossed his arms. “You’re not exactly thinking clearly right now, are you?”

Arthur glowered, but didn’t argue.

“Look, what Frey did was super shitty. But tonight is not the time to make life changing decisions. This is something you need to sleep on.” Dylas frowned, looking at the desk clock. “Speaking of sleeping on it, why are you down here anyway?”

“Frey fell asleep upstairs, and I couldn’t bring myself to wake her and make her walk home. At least down here I could work without waking her up.”

“D-do you want me to take her home?”

“No, let her sleep. She needs it, and I’m not going to get any sleep tonight, anyway.” Arthur shuffled his papers.

“What are you looking at?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed and set a stack aside. “A rash decision, probably.”

Dylas peeked at some of the papers. The printing was tiny and nearly impossible to read from a distance. Beneath that was a sheet of royal letterhead with the words obscured. Arthur’s wastepaper basket was filled with crumpled pages of matching letterhead.

“Look… I’m not exactly the first guy people come to for advice, but… y’know, if you want to talk, I’ll listen.”

Arthur looked up again, gratitude clear in his eyes. For as long as they had lived together, they had their fair share of arguments and butting heads, but Dylas and Arthur had always been friends. Arthur pushed away from the desk and wandered over to one of the couches sat around a low table in the corner. Dylas followed. Arthur was quiet for a long moment as he settled in and moved the decorative pillows aside.

“Did you know I’m a bastard?”

“What?”

“My father never denied me as his son, but that doesn’t matter much to the court. My mother was one of his mistresses. Granted, I’m not the only half-legitimate royal. A man doesn’t sire thirteen sons and half as many daughters with only one woman, but…” Arthur trailed off, the bitterness clear in his voice. “Father at least treated us all the same; demanded we all be raised as proper Princes and Princesses of Norad.” Arthur shrugged. “Outside the capital, most people don’t pay close enough attention to the royal family to keep track of which of us are legitimate and which are the bastards.”

“Buddy, if you’re asking an orphan whether he cares about something like bloodlines…” Dylas began.

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Arthur cut in quickly. He sighed and glared sharply at a point off Dylas’ side. “I just always told myself that I would never be a man like my father. I’d never treat a woman as expendably as he does. I’d never see a child as a participation trophy for sex. I-I’d never be responsible for a bastard.”

“But you’re not,” Dylas countered, “You’re not the father. You and Frey aren’t married. Hell, you’ve only been dating for a couple months.”

“And yet, for the last hour I’ve mostly thought about what I needed to do to claim the child as my own. It’s not so easy to bring an adopted heir into the royal family.”

Dylas’ eyes went wide with disbelief. “I think you’re putting the cart _way_ before the horse here.”

Arthur laughed once, humorlessly. “I know. It’s not even _my_ bastard child and I still want to be responsible for it.”

“Yeah, but what’s to say you’ll have to be responsible at all? Huh? What if the real father steps forward? What if he and Frey get married and live happily ever after with their kid? What if Frey doesn’t want there to be a father at all?”

“I still want to help. It’s absurd. Even if this destroys our relationship, I still want to help her.”

“What if Frey doesn’t want your help?”

That brought both men to pause. If there was one thing they knew about Frey, it was how stubborn she was. Once she made a decision there was no dissuading her. Not Native Dragons, or egomaniacal emperors, or god-like monsters could make her change her mind.

Dylas spoke again, “You have a lot to talk to her about before you go making any royal decrees. Even if the real father never steps forward, it’s still _her_ baby. It’s no more your responsibility than it is mine at this point.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All things considered, Arthur might be a better human being than I am. He's handling things remarkably well for the moment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Frey is not okay, Nancy is and angel, and the butlers are confused.

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Frey woke up with the quick panic of unfamiliar surroundings. It took her a moment to recognize Arthur’s parlor in the dim light of a single desk lamp that had been half-shrouded by a scarf. Frey sat up, rubbing at her sore eyes, and looked around. Arthur wasn’t there. She didn’t expect him to be.

Silently, she got up and peeked into the bedroom. The bed was neatly made and hadn’t looked like it had been touched at all. The curtains hadn’t even been pulled across the window. It was pitch black outside – the dead of night.

Moving as silently as a ghost, Frey gathered up her things. After she’d cried herself to sleep, Arthur must have tried to make her comfortable by removing her shoes and tucking a blanket around her. She would put her shoes on after sneaking downstairs. Dylas and Porcoline were probably sleeping.

Frey tiptoed out of the room and first checked the stairway that led down to Arthur’s office. Light was filtering up, so he was probably awake. She absolutely did not want to have another conversation with him at the moment. The gentle murmur of two distinct voices reached her ears and she paused to listen. Arthur was talking with Dylas, though about what she couldn’t tell. Hopefully they were just having an insomniacs’ meet up.

Frey could escape through the restaurant. This late, absolutely nobody would be down there. In a fit of desperation, she tried to use an Escape spell to return instantly to her room, but as with all magic over the last six weeks, nothing happened. Stifling a frustrated sob, Frey tiptoed carefully down the stairs. She stopped at the landing to slip her shoes on, certain the sound of her light footsteps wouldn’t reach any ears by this point. She didn’t even think to skip the last two squeaky steps.

A flash of movement caught her eye and she froze on the last stair. Silhouetted in the light that shone in from the half-opened door to Arthur’s office stood Porcoline in striped pajamas, velvet dressing gown, and night cap. A midnight snack was held forgotten in his hands in favor of juicy gossip.

Frey could tell from his expression alone exactly what Arthur had been discussing with Dylas, and what Porcoline had overheard.

“Frey,” the chef whispered, stepping towards her.

Frey was not going to wait to hear whatever he had to say. She sprinted for the restaurant door and burst out into the cool night air before he could catch her. She didn’t stop running until she was in her room and only then did she realize she was crying again.

 _Damn him_! Damn Arthur for going around and talking about _her_ private business! Where did he think he got the right to talk about the baby and her like that to Dylas and Porcoline?

Frey swore as she wiped angrily at her cheeks. She didn’t bother being quiet as she pulled off her shoes and chucked them against the wall. She felt so full of emotions, she couldn’t even identify them. Was she angry? Hurt? Heartbroken? Sad? Lost? Confused? All of the above?

She didn’t know!

She wanted to rage and scream and cry and go back in time. Why was this happening to her? On furious impulse, Frey took aim at the nearest thing she could break. She seized a decorative glass dish that held some of her magical rings and hurled it at the same wall as her shoes. It exploded into a fine shower of glitter and glass shards. Not satisfied, Frey swept her arms across her vanity and pushed everything onto the floor. Her jewelry box cracked open and its contents went spilling across the floor. For good measure she kicked it at the wall and watched it break apart and splinter. Perfume bottles shattered and mixed their scents into a nauseating cloud. Frey wished she had her magic, because setting the whole thing on fire sounded perfect. Instead she seized the corner of the vanity, ready to tip the thing on its side, and hopefully shatter the mirror.

“What’s going on in here?!” A stern voice demanded.

Frey turned around and found Vishnal in the bedroom doorway, one of his daggers ready in hand. “Princess!” he sheathed the dagger. “I thought you were a burglar. W-what happened? D-did someone break in?”

“Nobody broke in. Just me, destroying my life,” Frey spat, turning over her vanity out of spite. The attached mirror shattered across the floor.

“Princess, stop that!” Vishnal’s boots crunched over bits of glass, splinters of wood, and shards of the mirror as he rushed to her side. “What’s wrong? What’s gotten into you?”

Frey refused to dignify that with a response that wasn’t a derisive snort.

Vishnal took her wrist. “Please, come with me. I’ll clean this up.”

“Let go!” Frey jerked her hand away. “Leave me alone!” She stepped back, wincing unconsciously as she trod over the debris in her bare feet.

Vishnal’s face transformed from worried to a stern visage reminiscent of Volkanon. He squared his shoulders and pitched his voice low and commanding. “Forgive me, Princess, but I will not allow you to continue this destructive behavior and hurt yourself.” Without waiting for her response, he stepped forward and grabbed her, lifting her into a bridal carry to walk her out of the mess she had created.

Frey did _not_ appreciate this action. “Put me down!”

She kicked and hit and shoved and shouted all the way to Venti’s audience chamber. Her hands flying so fast and wildly she hit herself a few times and she wasn’t gentle about it. Vishnal held her tight and secure and showed no sign of weakening.

“What is going on here?!” Volkanon’s voice boomed through the empty chamber.

The sheer magnitude of his voice stopped Frey’s struggles.

“Mr. Volkanon, Princess Frey is in need of first aid and close watching,” Vishnal reported crisply. “She has stepped on broken glass and cut the bottoms of her feet.”

His hold on Frey loosened and she was able to push free from his carry. Once she was stable on her own two feet, she wheeled on him and struck him across the face. “You’re fired! I will not tolerate being manhandled like that!”

Vishnal looked more shocked by the sudden dismissal, than the new red spot blooming on his cheek.

“Enough!” Volkanon shouted, stepping between Frey and the butler. “Miss Frey, I insist you allow us to tend to your injuries, or else I shall be forced to escort you to the clinic.”

There was still fire in Frey’s eyes as she stared down the head butler. “Fine,” she conceded spitefully. “Fix my feet. That’s all you’re good for anyway.”

“Clorica.” The third butler appeared from the shadows. “Take care of Frey’s injuries. Be sure she does not leave your sight until I return.”

“Yes, sir.” Clorica turned to Frey and offered her arm for support as she helped the princess limp away towards the butlers’ quarters. She left bloody footsteps in her wake, but the fight and anger seemed to be leaving her under Clorica’s drowsy aura.

Volkanon turned to Vishnal. “Explain.”

“S-she was trashing her room. I thought she was a burglar, but when I tried to get her clear of the broken glass, she snapped.” Vishnal’s eyes went wide. “A-am I really fired?”

“Frey does not have the authority to make staff changes to the castle.” Volkanon said simply, striding off to Frey’s room. “Show me the damage.”

Vishnal swallowed nervously and trotted after him. He was fully aware that the head butler’s reply was not a strict ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

Frey seethed in silence as Clorica cleaned and bandaged her feet. She was still so angry, but the longer she stayed in her butler’s presence, the heavier she felt. Everything suddenly required so much effort, even simply sitting upright in the chair.

Clorica also kept silent as she worked. In part because she didn’t think there was anything she could say to alleviate the situation. Also because she could feel Frey’s turmoil and it wasn’t something she thought the Princess needed to get back into right at this moment.

With all the splinters removed and the wounds thoroughly cleaned and the bandages secured, Clorica finally offered, “Would you like to lie down for a bit, Frey? Just until Mr. Volkanon and Vishnal finish cleaning up your room.”

“Whatever.”

Clorica helped Frey limp over to her own bed and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“A time travel spell.”

Clorica blinked, wondering if the Princess was being serious. Her offer had been more along the lines of a cup of water or tea. “I’m sorry, I don’t think—“

“Then you can’t help me.” Frey turned her back to Clorica and fell still and silent.

By the time Volkanon and Vishnal returned from their examination of Frey’s room, she was fast asleep. They left her in Clorica’s bed as they stepped into Volkanon’s office.

“So what happened?” Clorica asked.

“I do not know.” Volkanon shook his head heavily. “Clearly she is going through something. It is so unlike Princess Frey to act as she did.”

“She had a dinner date with Arthur tonight. Do you think something happened between then?”

“Perhaps. But she didn’t look entirely well this afternoon before dinner.”

Vishnal spoke up. “I saw her going into the clinic earlier today. Maybe she is ill.”

Volkanon nodded thoughtfully. “Tomorrow morning, I would like you, Clorica, to go inquire about the Princess at the Clinic. Vishnal, I think you should speak to Prince Arthur. If we are lucky, it is merely a lover’s spat.”

“What do we do until then?” Clorica asked.

“Her room has been cleaned and the damaged items have been removed. She can return to her own bed. But I do not want her to be alone for the night. I will keep watch.”

They tried rousing the Princess, just enough to help her walk back to bed, but she was so deeply asleep even moving her didn’t wake her. Unperturbed, Volkanon carried Frey back to her own bed and tucked her in. She didn’t even stir, and if it hadn’t been for the clearly draining day she had, he would be concerned for how deeply she slept. Still, he pulled up a chair to her bedside and kept watch overnight.

When morning came, they tried waking her at her normal time. She didn’t wake, only muttering something incomprehensible as she rolled over and settled deeper into sleep.

They saw no harm in letting her rest for a couple more hours. When they tried waking her again, she cracked a red eye open at them, glowered, declared she wasn’t getting up yet and turned her back to them.

They tried a couple more times, each receiving a blunt refusal to wake up and leave bed. Not even the temptation of breakfast nor the need to tend to her fields and monsters could rouse her.

Finally, fully concerned for the wellbeing of their princess, Clorica was about to run and summon Nancy and Jones when the nurse appeared in the doorway.

“How did you know the Princess needed you?” Vishnal asked, trailing in behind her.

“We had a previous appointment,” Nancy said crisply. “Now out, all of you. I’ll take care of Frey.”

All three butlers left reluctantly, but they would give Frey the privacy she deserved when talking to Nancy. Volkanon closed the door behind them, asking Nancy to check in with him before she left. With the room empty, Nancy turned to the lump in the bed. Her heart sank. She sat on the edge of the bed and placed a gentle hand on Frey’s shoulder.

“Did you tell Arthur?”

“Yes,” Frey rasped beneath the covers.

“What did he say?”

Frey uncovered her face and turned to face Nancy. There was a raised swelling on her cheek that was turning into a bruise.

“It’s not his.”

“How did he take it?”

Frey scoffed and sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. “Worst case scenario.”

Nancy reached out and gently touched the bruise on Frey’s cheek. Her heart leapt uncomfortably at the implications of her next question, but it had to be asked. “Did he do this?”

Frey touched the tender spot. “No. I think I did that.” Her legs relaxed and she settled into a crossed-legged seat. She rubbed at the bandages on her feet. “I don’t remember much after getting home last night, but I’m sure I made a right spectacle of myself.”

“What makes you say that?”

Frey rubbed at her eyes. “I broke stuff. I’m pretty sure I hit Vishnal. I… I’ve never been out of control like that. I don’t know where it came from.” She scoffed and stared at her injured feet. “Go figure I just ruin my life and my reputation in one fell swoop.”

“Who says your life is ruined?”

“I cheated on my boyfriend, got pregnant, and don’t even have the dignity to remember who the father is. Plus I know both Dylas and Porcoline know by now. And if Porco knows…”

“Porcoline knows when discretion is appropriate,” Nancy said firmly. “He may like to gossip, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to go spreading rumors that could hurt people he cares for.”

“Doesn’t matter, I suppose the truth will get out eventually. Can’t exactly hide a baby. And Selphia’s the only home I know. It’s not like I have a distant relative I could go visit for nine months.”

“You won’t be run out of town for having a baby out of wedlock.”

Nancy thought that Frey had lucked out, being part of such a tight knit community. She could avoid a lot of the stigma most unwed mothers faced. And nobody would force her to give up her child under the assumption that without a spouse, she wouldn’t be able to provide for them.

“I won’t let anyone chase you from your home. And if they give you any grief, they’ll have to deal with me,” Nancy said bracingly.

Frey chuckled and sniffled. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Frey, you have so many friends here, you’re our princess. Do you think we would let anything bad happen to you?”

“You know I’m not really a princess,” Frey insisted, reminding Nancy of the secret that everybody had figured out about a week after her arrival.

“You act like our princess. You’ve done more for this town than anybody else. Who deserves that title more than you?”

“Someone with better morals.”

“Now you listen to me, Frey,” Nancy said, suddenly very stern, “This baby is not a punishment for your actions. You are not being punished.”

“It feels like it. It feels like I’ve been cursed. First my accident, then my amnesia, and now the baby. What else would you call it?”

“A string of unfortunate coincidences and nothing more.”

Frey stifled a sob and leaned into Nancy. The older woman wrapped her in a hug. She silently stroked her hair, waiting for Frey to decide she had enough. When she finally pulled away, she didn’t look much better, but behind her eyes she seemed less broken up.

“So, if we know Arthur isn’t the father, do you want to try some sleuthing to figure out who is?”

Frey shrugged helplessly. “I have no clue. Before I lost my memory I know for certain that I had no thoughts of cheating on Arthur. After, nobody made any hints or comments that we had recently been together. And, even before I started dating Arthur, it had been a couple months since I was with anybody, even just for one night.”

Nancy nodded. “Yes, you have always been very diligent about acquiring contraceptives before you thought you might be having sex with someone. And you didn’t come in for any during your lost time. You didn’t have any stocked here?”

Frey shook her head. “No, I usually don’t keep any around unless I’m going to need it regularly. And again, it had been _months_. I don’t know what could have changed my mind in less than two weeks to break my habit. Or who could even convince me to cheat in the first place. I… I care so much for Arthur. I’d never want to do anything to hurt him intentionally. But I did. And I don’t even know why I did it.”

“Hmmm… It sounds like the fae’s baby,” Nancy mused dreamily.

“The fae?”

Nancy blushed slightly. “It was a euphemism in my hometown for when a girl got pregnant, no father came forward, and she refused to even admit to having sex. My hometown was a superstitious bunch; we blamed a lot of things on the fae.” She nudged Frey playfully. “I don’t suppose they left behind a token?”

Frey half laughed. “No, nothing like that.” She then stopped and perked up. “Wait, maybe they did.”

She scrambled out of bed and over to the bureau her jewelry had been left on in the absence of her jewelry box. Things hadn’t been sorted or organized very well, and a lot of her necklaces and bracelets were tangled up with each other. Frey dug through frantically, hoping the mysterious silver bracelet hadn’t accidentally been swept up with the debris and thrown out. She found it at the bottom of the pile, miraculously not tangled with anything. She carried it over to Nancy.

“I have no idea where this bracelet came from, but you said I had been wearing it when I had my accident.”

Nancy studied the bracelet. “I guess it looks familiar.”

Frey rushed on, “It wasn’t a gift, and I asked the merchants in town and none of them recognized it. I figured it must have been something I found in a dungeon or on the road and picked it up there. But then I noticed the symbols and inscription. It’s ancient Earthspeak. Older than even what Leon knows. But he was able to translate the inscription, and it says _Remember, you agreed to this_. I thought it was just a specific message for whoever the bracelet was made for, but what if…” Frey trailed off, realizing how utterly insane and stupid the end of that statement was.

Nancy’s comment about the fae had just been a joke to try and lighten the mood. There was only one way to make a baby, and it didn’t include clairvoyant bracelets or magic influence.

Nancy smiled sympathetically. “It’s common during times of great confusion and stress, for the mind to search for any kind of easy answer, even if it doesn’t make sense.”

“No… Now I’m just grasping at straws.” Frey flopped back into her bed. Her feet gave a painful throb in protest to her standing on them. “Maybe this has all just been a bad dream. Maybe I’m still in a coma from my accident.”

“Hmm, well, coma dream or not, you can’t let yourself self-destruct like this. The consequences to that would be greater than you want to handle.”

“I know.” Frey sat up, and again rubbed at her bandaged feet. “I don’t think this is a dream. My feet wouldn’t hurt if it was.”

“Well, I guess that means you need to make a real effort to make sure things work out for the best. Let’s go back to last night. How did your talk with Arthur go?”

“It was awful,” Frey admitted, “Once I told him I was pregnant, and he knew it wasn’t his, everything just went to hell. You should have heard the things he said.” Frey bowed her head, hugging her arms around herself tightly. “He has to hate me.”

“It was an emotionally wrought moment for both of you…”

“You didn’t see the way he looked at me when I told him.”

Nancy wrapped Frey in a half hug. “Now might not be the ideal time, but you two should try and talk things over when you’re both in cooler heads.”

Frey buried her face in Nancy’s shoulder. “I don’t think he’ll ever want to speak to me again. Not after the way I betrayed him.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Nancy soothed. “It just might take some time.”

“He can have all the time he needs.” Frey pulled away, her face was set with determination. “I don’t expect anything from him. I don’t even expect him to forgive me. I’m the one who was unfaithful. I broke his trust. It’s not his baby, it’s not his problem. And if I never find out who the father is…” Frey shook the thought off. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll do it all myself if I have to.”

“Six years living in this town, and you really think the people who love you won’t be there to help?”

“Six years living in this town and nothing like this has ever happened.” Frey countered sharply. “What am I supposed to expect my friends to do? Pick sides over who they would rather be friends with? That’s an easy decision. Who’s the more sympathetic party? The one who was cheated on and had his heart broken? Or the one who was so impatient for sex she went and cheated on her boyfriend?”

Nancy fixed her with a serious look. “Do you really think that’s how people will see this?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Frey hugged herself tightly. “Between me and Arthur, one of us was in the wrong. And Arthur isn’t the one who cheated and got someone pregnant.”

Frey bowed her head and began crying again. “I love him, Nancy. I thought he was going to be the one. I’ve never dreamed of spending my life with anyone like I have with Arthur. And then I went and I screwed it all up, and I can’t even remember why I did it.”

Nancy pulled Frey into another hug. “Well, even if the entire town turns their back on you, I’ll be here for you, Frey. You’re my friend. And you’ll always be my friend; indiscretion and flaws and all. But I think you’ll find that you have more friends willing to stick through a storm than you think.” She gave Frey’s back a comforting pat. “You’ll see. When things calm down, the future will look a little brighter.”

They fell into silence for a while, Nancy simply being there as a comfort to Frey. The silence was shattered with a booming knock on the closed bedroom door.

“Volkanon,” Frey identified under her breath, then she called out, “Come in!”

Her head butler stepped into the room, his shoulders squared and a distinctly perturbed furrow in his brow. “Princess Frey, you have a visitor.”

“Who is it?”

“Sir Arthur.”

Frey froze, absolutely stunned that Arthur would be here so soon. Was this as Nancy promised, his cooler head returning to finish their conversation properly? Or was she destined for another shouting match and breakdown?

Volkanon quickly supplied, “If you do not wish to see him, I shall send him away post haste.”

“N-no,” Frey shook herself. “I’ll see him. Let him in.”

“Very well.” Volkanon bowed, turned on his heel, and left.

Nancy laid a hand on Frey’s arm. “Would you like me to leave?”

“No. Can you stay, please? If it goes poorly, we might need a third party, and you already know everything.”

“I’ll stay.” Nancy handed over a handkerchief for Frey to wipe her eyes.

Volkanon reappeared and announced Arthur. The butler was leaning heavily on propriety during such uncertain times. Arthur stepped into the room, looking just as worse for wear as Frey felt.

“Nurse Nancy, will you be leaving now?” Volkanon asked pointedly, lingering in the doorway.

“I’d like Nancy to stay,” Frey said, studying Arthur more for his response than Volkanon. They both nodded agreeably. Volkanon at least looked relieved that there was going to be a witness to whatever was about to happen between the two.

The door clicked closed ominously in the suddenly very silent room. Arthur stepped closer to Frey’s bed, but did not sit in the empty chair at her bedside. Nancy also stood near the head of the bed, while Frey sat upright in bed. Her feet hurt too much to even think about standing for too long.

Arthur’s face grew dark with worry when he got close enough to see Frey’s injuries. “Are you alright? Did someone hurt you?”

Frey touched her bruised cheek, considered her words, and said bitingly, “It was an accident. I’ll recover.”

Arthur clearly caught onto the double meaning of her words. He first looked down to the floor, then nervously to Nancy, and back to Frey. He cleared his throat. “We – _I_ said a lot of things last night, but I don’t think I said enough of the _right_ things.”

Frey was taken aback. Was he apologizing to her? She didn’t think him dumping her was supposed to begin with an apology. “After the bomb I dropped on you, I hardly blame you for being angry.” She looked down at her hands folded in her lap. “What I have done is unforgivable.”

Arthur opened his mouth and snapped it shut. “The truth is, I still care for you very deeply, Frey, even if we are no longer lovers, we have been friends for such a long time. I want you to know I would like to help however I can. Especially if the real father never comes forward.”

Frey’s head snapped up. What exactly was he offering as ‘help’? Was he about to ‘do the right thing’ and offer to marry her? Or claim the child as his to alleviate rumors? Why on earth would he do any of those things? He was a Prince of Norad for gods’ sakes. He shouldn’t be touching her with a ten foot pole to avoid any scandal brushing off onto him.

Confusion quickly turned to irritation. “What makes you think I need your help?”

“Nothing,” Arthur said quickly. “I know you are more than capable on your own. But if you ever want it, I offer whatever I can to help you.”

A warmth of love and support bloomed in Frey’s chest, mixing even more confusingly with everything else. “Why? It’s not even your baby. Why go through so much?”

Arthur took a moment to formulate a response. Eventually he had to admit, “I don’t know. I just feel like it’s the right thing to do. You don’t get the option to walk away like nothing happened. I figure I shouldn’t take that option either. U-unless you want me to.”

Frey looked away from him. “This would all be easier if I could remember who the father was.”

“If he comes forward, I’ll respect whatever decision the two of you make. And,” Arthur added quickly, “You don’t have to make a decision now, or any time soon. Just whenever you are ready.”

Frey nodded. How had Arthur reached such clarity in twelve short hours? Had he stayed up all night talking to Dylas and Porcoline? He probably didn’t go and trash his room once he was left alone.

“I don’t know, Arthur. I don’t know what I want anymore. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know anything.” Frey suddenly felt very empty, teetering on the brink of despair.

“You don’t have to know the answers,” Arthur offered gently. “You’re in uncharted territory.” He sat gingerly in the bedside chair and reached for Frey’s hand. “You are going through a lot. You can take things a day at a time, or even a minute at a time. I just want to help.”

Frey didn’t deserve his help. She pulled her hand from his.

“I don’t think we should see each other for a while. We both need time and distance. I don’t think either of us should rush into any more decisions that could ruin our lives.”

Arthur looked like he had been struck. He looked up to Nancy, who had been silent for their entire conversation, she looked a little surprised, but more somber. He swallowed his initial protests.

“Is that how you really feel?”

“I think it’s best.” If Frey was cursed to take this path, there was no sense in dragging Arthur down with her.

Arthur stood up, feeling suddenly hollow. “If that is what you wish, I’ll follow. But Frey, my offer will always stand. If you ever want my help, all you need to do is ask.”

She said nothing. She couldn’t even meet his eye.

Arthur turned and left.

Frey deliberately avoided Nancy’s eyes as the nurse sat down in Arthur’s abandoned chair. She said, before Nancy could open her mouth to speak, “Don’t say it. There’s no sense in letting him get any more tangled up in this mess than he needs to be. At least if we aren’t seeing each other, he can distance himself.”

Nancy smoothed her skirt, thinking to herself that it looked like the last thing Arthur wanted was distance. Instead she said, “What about all that stuff you said earlier, about loving him?”

“I can’t… trust my feelings right now. I can’t trust anything. I can’t trust him. I can’t trust myself. I can’t even trust my own memory. And if I-I…” Frey stuttered to a stop, unable to voice how she didn’t deserve his care or help or love. She knew how much Arthur valued trust above all else in relationships. She wiped at her eyes and drew a bracing breath.

“I should tell Volkanon and Clorica and Vishnal.”

“Frey, you only found out you were pregnant yesterday. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. You can take your time and let things soak in,” Nancy reminded her.

“No,” Frey shook her head. “I need to tell them. I have to apologize to Vishnal, and thank Clorica, and explain to Volkanon. I’d rather just get it done and over with.”

“Okay, but you know the more people you tell, the faster the news is going to get around town.”

“It’s going to get out eventually.”

Nancy tapped at her chin thoughtfully. “It could potentially work in your favor, if you want to try and draw out the real father without outright saying you can’t remember who it is.”

“How so?”

“When you want to lure out someone keeping a secret, you spread rumors. We feed it into the town rumor mill that you’re pregnant and wait to see who comes calling in secret. Anyone who thinks they might be a father would probably come to you to confirm whether the rumors are true.”

Frey half smiled, “That’s a lot more subtle than my plan of outright asking men I’ve slept with before.”

“And more fun. It wouldn’t be very hard. You tell a few people. There’s an overheard conversation here, and a dropped hint there in front of the right people, and next thing you know, the father of your child is pulling you aside and asking if he’s the one. All it requires is a little subtle manipulation of the gossip train.”

Subtle manipulation. Not one of Frey’s strongest suites. She was more of the dash in screaming with her longsword type, but she could be subtle when the situation called for it. “That sounds like a plan. Where do we start?”

Telling her butlers she was pregnant went about as well as Frey expected. She summoned them all into her room while Nancy was there and told them in three simple statements. “Arthur and I are no longer together. I found out yesterday that I’m pregnant. Arthur isn’t the father.”

There were plenty of tears from Volkanon – torn between lamenting about where he went wrong in protecting the Princess, and being excited for there to be a baby in the castle. Vishnal and Clorica opted for shocked silence as they put the pieces together of her disastrous night before.

When Frey apologized to Vishnal, he quickly assured her there was nothing to be forgiven. Clorica said much the same when Frey thanked her for taking care of her.

Nancy filled in some more details, in particular many of Frey’s new restrictions in regards to her diet and her work. No more heavy lifting or hard labor in the fields. Absolutely no more monster hunts or dungeon crawling. She should rest and take things easy, particularly during these delicate early months. And if anyone were to catch her breaking these rules, they were to bodily drag her to the clinic for enforced rest.

Speaking of rest, Princess Frey needed to rest for the remainder of the day. She should be left to peace and quiet once Nancy was done with their appointment.

The younger butlers were quick to pick up on the hint to leave right now, but Volkanon stopped them with a hand on each of their shoulders. “Wait, Princess Frey, this is highly personal information you are trusting us with. Naturally, we will uphold our normal standard of discretion, but if you prefer, we would each agree to a vow of secrecy.”

A ghost of a smile pulled at Frey’s lips. “That is not necessary, but thank you. Things won’t exactly stay secret for very long.” Out of the corner of her eye, Nancy gave the slightest nod. How was that for subtle manipulation?

Vishnal in particular looked like he was going to explode if he didn’t talk about this to someone as soon as he had the chance. Frey frowned as her butlers bowed and left her and Nancy alone again. Vishnal had always been a bit prone to excitement and anxiety, but was he acting this way because he was the father? They hadn’t dated in almost three years.

She supposed she would have to wait and see what the town rumor mill spat out when it was done with her newest secret.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *sobs* It's about friendship!

Dylas paced a nervous track around Arthur’s office. The true Prince had left a while ago to go talk to Frey. If things went well, Arthur and Frey would probably spend a long time talking things over. If things didn’t…

Dylas’ ears flicked back, catching the soft click of the latch turning in the door before it could even inch open. He turned to face Arthur’s return. His heart sank deep into his stomach. Arthur hadn’t been gone all that long.

Arthur was silent as he stepped into the office. His face was set in a carefully neutral mask.

Dylas waited as long as he could stand. “So… how did it go?”

“Fine.”

Dylas could almost taste the lie. “No it wasn’t.”

“Well, we didn’t yell at each other. That counts for something.”

“Not yelling is a pretty low bar.”

Arthur shrugged, a careless gesture he rarely employed.

“C’mon,” Dylas prompted, “Did you talk to Frey? What did she say?”

Arthur leaned against his desk, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He spoke reluctantly. “She still has no idea who the father might be.”

“Okay. And did you get to tell her what you wanted?”

“Yes… and she told me she didn’t want my help. She doesn’t even want to see me for the time being, so.” Arthur lifted his hands in a helpless gesture before letting them fall to his side. “That’s that. She’s made her decisions. I cannot force her to do something she doesn’t want to. So… I guess it’s time to move on.”

Dylas stared at Arthur in open disbelief. “’That’s that’? That’s all you have to say about the whole thing?”

“Making a public spectacle of things hardly seems appropriate.”

“Man, you are taking this a lot better than anyone should.”

“You think I’m not upset?”

“Arthur, looking at you, we could be discussing the weather. I mean… if anyone has a right to be angry about something, you do.”

“And who do you suggest I unleash my temper on? Frey? You?” Arthur shook his head. “I won’t hurt someone else simply because my own feelings are in turmoil.”

“That’s not what I-“ Dylas cut himself off and snapped his fingers. “Actually, that’s exactly what I meant. Stay here.”

He dashed up to his room and grabbed a few items, shoving them in a bag before returning to Arthur. The prince had hardly moved.

“Let’s go.” Dylas grabbed Arthur by the wrist and pulled him out of the office. Arthur protested, but trotted beside him silently until they stepped out of the town gates and onto the forest road.

“May I ask where we are going?” Arthur said as they moved south.

“Somewhere you won’t make a public spectacle,” Dylas said simply as he led them off the road and into the woods.

They followed a game trail through the underbrush until it cleared away near a grassy riverbank. Close to the river stood a gnarled, dead tree that had long ago lost most of its branches. Its trunk was battered and scarred with big chunks taken out of it in some places.

“What is this?” Arthur asked as Dylas tossed his bag to the ground and began riffling through it.

“I come here when I have to blow off steam. Here, put these on.” He tossed a pair of worn, padded gloves to Arthur.

Arthur didn’t. “Look, Dylas, I appreciate the gesture, but-“

“But what? You’re not angry?” Dylas studied him sharply. “Don’t lie to me.”

“But I’m not.”

“Now you’re just lying to yourself.” Dylas held up a hand to cut off Arthur’s protests. “Look, Arthur, if I know one thing it’s how messed up bottling up your emotions can make you. That shit will ruin you. You don’t want to get angry in town? Fine. You don’t want to be mad at Frey? Fine. But after all the shitty things she has done to you over the last day, I know you’re angry.” Dylas gestured to the empty forest around them. “Who can you hurt out here? For gods’ sakes, _be mad_ , Arthur. You can’t hold that shit in. Here, in this place and in this moment let yourself get angry.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed and his face went stony. He slid the gloves on. Dylas pulled one last item from his bag. It was round like a small shield, but thickly padded. He slid it onto his arm and faced Arthur with the shield held before him.

“You ever do any boxing?”

“Only a few lessons. That was more my brothers’ sport than mine.”

“Well, at least you won’t break your hand throwing a punch.” Dylas tapped the padded shield. “Take a swing.”

Arthur did. Dylas barely felt it.

“That was pathetic,” he taunted. “Come on, try again.”

Arthur jabbed the shield a couple more times before dropping his arms. “This is stupid.”

“Maybe. But I’m not letting you leave until we’re done. And that will either happen when you work out your anger, or I can expedite the process and throw you in the river. It’s ice cold this time of year.”

Arthur glared at Dylas. The half-monster grinned wickedly. “That’s what I’m talking about. Come on. Hit me.”

His next hits were still weak. Dylas wasn’t expecting much, considering Arthur was more suited to desk work and magic casting, but he knew from experience the prince had more strength than this. He just needed some more goading.

“You’re not even trying. I guess you really aren’t mad. I guess Frey doesn’t mean much to you after all, does she?” Arthur’s hits grew stronger, but he still wasn’t close. Dylas continued taunting. “I mean, she cheated on you.” A stronger hit. “She got pregnant.” Another stronger hit. “And then after all that she has the _audacity_ to dump you!”

Arthur hit Dylas hard enough to make him readjust his stance. “That’s more like it. Again!”

They went on for some time in silence. Dylas didn’t expect Arthur to get vocal and shout like he did, but he could tell his friend was getting the same emotional workout regardless. And finally sweating and panting Arthur stopped pummeling Dylas’ shield. He leaned against the gnarled old tree and slid down to the ground, swearing under his breath. Dylas sat beside him and handed over a canteen of water.

Arthur took a long drink. He stared silently at the canteen in his hands before saying bitterly, “I’m an idiot… I trusted her.”

“We’ve all trusted her at some point,” Dylas offered. “She’s Frey.”

Arthur pulled off his gloves and wiped his hands over his sweaty face, grimacing in disgust. He walked to the riverbank and knelt down to splash some water over his face.

Dylas heard him gasp all the way from the tree. This time of the season, the river was still catching the last of the mountains’ snow melt. Even in the eternal summer of this section of forest surrounding Selphia, it would be achingly cold, and wouldn’t reach tolerable temperatures for another month or two.

Arthur came back silently, sitting heavily in the grass.

“Feel better?” Dylas offered quietly.

“Not really.”

Dylas expected as much. He dug back into his pack and pulled out a flask. He offered it wordlessly to Arthur.

“It’s too early to drink.”

“Given the day you’ve had, I don’t think anyone would give you grief about it.” Dylas gave the flask an enticing shake. “Besides, you haven’t slept yet; early doesn’t count.”

Arthur took the flask and took a quick swig. He grimaced and coughed as the liquor burned his throat. “How you drink this cheap crap, I’ll never know.” He handed the flask back.

“It’s the only thing I can guarantee won’t go missing too quickly from the liquor cabinet.”

“That’s because it’s not alcohol, it’s poison.”

“It gets the job done.” Dylas shrugged and took a drink before offering it to Arthur.

Arthur took a second, heartier drink when the flask was offered. It went down a little smoother. “I really am an idiot.” He shook his head and dropped his forehead into his fist. “How could I think talking to her this morning was a good thing? Why did I think Frey would take me up on my offer? Why didn’t you stop me!?”

“I tried!” Dylas shot back defensively. “I told you to give it a day or two and wait, but you weren’t listening to anyone or anything this morning.” He sighed and offered the flask again. “Look, the result would have been the same regardless.”

Arthur pushed away the flask. “I just thought… after knowing each other for so many years, things were going to work out. This time things would go right. We didn’t even last a season.”

“For what it’s worth, I hadn’t seen Frey happier than when you two were dating, at least until this.” He fiddled with the cap of the flask. “Even happier than when she and I were dating… and you didn’t screw things up like I did.”

Arthur laughed humorlessly, “And yet, somehow I feel like I am the one who has messed everything up. I thought I did everything right.”

“Hey, you did nothing wrong.”

“And yet, she cheated on me. She chose another man. I just wish I knew who.”

Dylas laughed harshly. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ve got a few choice words for him. Well… for better or worse, something like this isn’t going to stay secret for very long. Eventually he’s bound to come out of the woodwork.”

Arthur made a noncommittal noise in his throat. He held his hand out for the flask. “For Frey’s sake, let’s hope he reveals himself soon.”

* * *

Forte sat quietly at her customary table at _Porcoline’s Kitchen_. Her normal late lunch break always went quickly and quietly when Kiel was out of town. And these days he was out of town more often than he was home. His research was really picking up steam and he was either out in the field or compiling his findings to report to the university. Once or twice, he had referred to his dormitory at the university as ‘home’ rather than the house he had grown up in. Such things were to be expected as part of the natural progression of adulthood and leaving the nest, but…

Forte missed her little brother, but he was so happy doing his work, and she was happy for him. Her meals just got a little lonely without him. But she didn’t mind too much, quick lunches meant she got back to her patrol and training faster. Still, today she ate a little slower.

Something was up.

Meg, Porco, and Dylas were spending an awful lot of time huddled in a tight group over the counter having hushed conversations, almost ignoring customers entirely. On top of their strange behavior, it seemed half the town was holding a secret. Frey had all but holed herself up in the castle over the last couple days, and Arthur was acting a little too formal and polite to be normal. Had they broken up?

Forte frowned. She always seemed to be the last to pick up on gossip if Kiel wasn’t around. And why hadn’t Frey talked to her about it yet? They were best friends. Forte had stumbled her way through supporting Frey through breakups over the years. When it came to matters of Frey’s heart, she usually was the first to know. After all, she had been the one to finally convince Frey to ask Arthur out after watching her friend pine for the Prince for so long.

She waited until Meg and Dylas were pulled away to help customers before gathering her empty plate and glass and taking them up to the counter to pay.

“Oh, Forte, you don’t have to bus your own table,” Porcoline reminded her, his tone indicative of the familiarity of the conversation.

“I don’t mind,” Forte smiled. She cast a cursory glance to the display of pastries kept secure behind glass. “What do you have today? I think I’ll take Frey something.”

“Oooh, dear Frey, you know she loves these chocolate horns,” Porco said with a mournful pout. He pulled the little key from his pocket and unlocked the case. He quickly put four into a small box. “I do worry for her. I haven’t seen her in days. How will I know she’s eating well? She needs extra care now that she’s eating for two.”

Forte froze in the middle of dropping money into Porco’s hand. “Excuse me?”

“You haven’t heard?” Porcoline’s eyes sparkled with mischief. He leaned close to Forte and lowered his voice. “Poor Frey is pregnant, and Arthur is not the father.”

“Then who is?”

“Don’t know,” Porco shook his head, looking a little too thrilled for the sober gossip he was sharing. “Rumor is Frey doesn’t know either, after her accident last month she lost that particular bit of memory.”

Forte’s tone turned sharp. “You shouldn’t say such things, Porcoline. You shouldn’t spread such rumors.”

“But sweet Forte, you see, it’s an open secret. I’ve been recruited to help draw the scoundrel out.” He giggled, “Can you imagine, moi part of this little drama. It’s almost more excitement than I can bear!”

Forte rolled her eyes, knowing Porcoline was loving every moment of this charade. “Don’t treat Frey’s private life like it’s a trashy novel,” she snapped, snatching up her box of pastries.

She walked quickly to the castle, trying to not let herself feel hurt that Frey hadn’t confided in her. They were best friends; they were supposed to be each other’s confidants and secret keepers. Sure, Forte wasn’t exactly the _best_ when it came to matters of love… and yes, Forte’s opinions of what scummy lowlifes she thought cheaters were wasn’t exactly secret, but… Frey didn’t think that Forte would judge her or cut her out because of that, did she?

None of the butlers were to be found, so she walked directly into Frey’s chambers, only pausing to knock on the bedroom door twice before letting herself in without an invitation.

She noted in the back of her mind that there was missing furniture in Frey’s room before spying her friend sitting in bed and looking terrible. She was pale, there were dark circles beneath her eyes, and her hair was unbrushed and unkempt. She was even still in her sleep clothes and it was nearly three in the afternoon.

Still, the first words from Frey’s mouth were, “It something wrong, Forte?”

“Yes… well, first, here,” she thrust the box of pastries into Frey’s lap, “From Porco’s.”

“Oh, uh… thank you.” Frey peeked into the box and smiled.

Forte then blurted out, “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant? Why did I have to hear it from _Porcoline_?”

Frey bit her lip and set the box aside. “I’ve only known for three days.”

“Three days?”

Frey patted the bed and Forte sat down facing her. She then told her everything about going to see Jones and Nancy, and telling Arthur, her meltdown, and her self-imposed solitude following that.

“I had to tell Arthur first. And I wanted to tell you second, but I had to tell Volkanon, Clorica, and Vishnal to apologize. You were going to be next, I promise. I just… haven’t felt quite up to going out recently.”

“But how did Porco know?”

“He overheard Arthur and Dylas talking about it. And then… well Nancy and I have a plan to try and figure out who the father is, which includes feeding the rumor mill. Who better than Porco to start a crazy rumor?”

“Only Kiel, and he’s in the capital for the next three weeks.” Forte smiled weakly. She was trying to not jump to too many assumptions. “S-so you really don’t know who the father is?”

“I only know it happened during the time I lost, and I know he isn’t Arthur.”

Forte reached over and took Frey’s fidgeting hands, giving them a gentle squeeze “Well, anything you need, you just tell me, okay. I’ll do everything I can to help.”

Frey squeezed back. “Thank you, Forte.” She sighed. “Things won’t exactly be easy going forward. I’m glad to have friends to help.”

“The whole town loves you, Frey. Everyone will help you, I know they will.”

Frey smiled, but it was small and sad. “That’s what I keep hearing.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With news of Frey's pregnancy spread around town, and nobody stepping forward to take responsibility, her friends take matters into their own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Why do I keep forgetting about this fic ohmygoddd this chapter was ready months ago and I just... didn't remember to post it)  
> I'm gonna finish this fic if it kills me, because I have so much already written and damnit, I still have to fix everything.
> 
> Hope you all are still enjoying!

**Chapter 6**

“I’m calling an emergency sleepover. Tonight. Don’t be late!” Margaret told Forte firmly when she stopped in for her lunch. It was the day after Frey had told Forte about the baby, and the Knight didn’t have to stretch her imagination to figure out what this ‘emergency sleepover’ was for.

“Meg, I don’t think-“

“Don’t argue. Just be there,” the elf said brusquely, before turning on her heel and marching away.

Forte sighed softly and decided maybe it was best to not argue. She supposed such a thing was inevitable for Frey’s closest friends.

At 8pm sharp, Forte was letting herself into Margaret’s house. She had her bedroll and her pajamas to change into later. She wasn’t the first to arrive, nor the last, and her entrance went almost entirely unnoticed. Frey was already there and she was being bombarded with questions from Meg and Xaio Pai.

Forte could hear in Frey’s voice the tinge of exhaustion from answering the same questions for the umpteenth time. Undoubtedly, her friend would be answering the same questions for quite some time, but Forte could save her from at least one unnecessary repetition.

“Why don’t we wait for everyone else to arrive?” she interjected rather loudly. “If everyone is here, then Frey only has to explain it once.”

Frey flashed Forte a gracious look over the turned heads of Meg and Xaio Pai.

“Oh, right, we should wait,” Margaret said, leaping to her feet. “I’ll finish putting together the snacks.”

“Do you need any help?” Xaio Pai chipped in.

Meg’s eyes slid over Forte and Xaio Pai, both of whom were notorious for their mishaps in the kitchen – though Forte would admit she was getting a little better at cooking since Kiel wasn’t always around to cook dinner anymore.

“No, that’s quite alright,” Meg said with a quick, nervous laugh, “All I need to do is set things out, and it’s really a once person task. You three relax and chat. The others should be here soon.”

Clorica arrived shortly, and Meg enlisted her help in heating up some milk for hot chocolate. Then Dolce arrived with Pico in tow. They were left waiting on Amber, which was a little unusual. She was often the most excited for these sleepovers and of the first to arrive.

The cocoa was ready to serve by the time Amber showed up, and she wasn’t alone. A tall figure loomed behind her in the doorway, not fully stepping into the light, waiting for a dramatic reveal. Light glinted ever so menacingly off her monocle.

“Sorry I’m late,” Amber rushed into the house, “Um, Ellie wanted to come too for a bit. Is that okay?”

“It’s fine,” Meg said quickly before raising her voice, “But it’s rude to lurk in doorways, Illuminata.”

The elder elf stepped into the house fully, her shoulders squared and a very serious expression on her face. “I see all the conspirators are gathered. How suspicious.”

Meg hid an eye roll by pulling another mug from the cabinet for Illuminata’s cocoa. She had her own suspicions about that the florist-detective was here for, and she was hoping to quickly mitigate any over-dramatic accusations before feelings got hurt. “Cocoa, Lumie?”

“Oh yes please,” the florist said brightly. Then she turned to the room at large and set her sights on her target. One Princess of Selphia. Her voice deepened into a menacing tone as she pointed a finger at Frey. “You! How dare you!?”

Frey swallowed and said meekly, “How dare I what?”

“How dare you have an _actual_ mystery on your hands and not come to me first thing! I am the Great detective Illuminata!”

Frey’s cheeks reddened. “I-it’s not really that kind of mystery, Lumie.”

The detective scoffed, offense clear on her face as she crossed her arms. “There’s no such thing as a ‘kind of mystery’ I can’t solve.” She crossed the room in long strides and got right into Frey’s face. “You must tell me every detail.”

Frey nearly fell backwards from her chair to avoid butting heads with Illuminata. Forte was quick to grab the florist’s shoulder and pull her back.

“Back off, Illuminata,” the knight warned.

The elf reared back, looking like she had several choice words for Forte, but Margaret’s voice brought them all to a halt.

“DON’T START!”

Meg never yelled. She set the tray full of cocoa mugs on the table harder than necessary. Hands free, she put them on her hips and looked around sharply to everyone in the room. “I won’t have anyone fighting or arguing here tonight. If you can’t do that, then you can go home.” She pointed to the door.

Nobody moved.

Pleased, Meg began handing out mugs of hot cocoa.

With her hands wrapped around the warm ceramic, Frey chose to watch the marshmallows melting in her cocoa rather than meet anybody’s eye. “I guess I should explain everything. It is why we’re here.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Amber piped up.

“No, it’s okay. I want my friends to know.” Frey took a deep breath and a sip of her cocoa and then launched into explaining everything. It didn’t take all that long to explain, she had very few details. “And so, you see, it was Nancy’s idea that we let the rumors spread around town, and hope that maybe whoever the father is will come forward.” She then added with a gracious nod to Illuminata, “If nothing turns up soon, though, Lumie you’re welcome to look into things.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” the detective replied, with just enough threat in her voice to draw some concerned looks. She set her empty cocoa mug down on the table and stood up. “I will leave you ladies to your evening. I have so work to do tonight.”

Frey sighed as the elf left Meg’s house. She didn’t really think Illuminata would have much luck figuring out who the father of her baby was. On the other hand, maybe she would, and that could answer one very important question for her.

Frey felt a hand on hers, and looked up to meet Xaio Pai’s earnest, determined eyes. “It will not be easy for you, having a baby like this. But your friends will be here to help you however you need, yes?”

“Of course!” Amber declared, throwing her arms around Frey. “This is what friends are for.”

Amber’s hug was quickly accompanied by Xaio Pai’s and soon everyone was wrapping Frey into a group hug, each offering words of comfort and support.

Frey felt tears gather in her eyes, though she was crying now for a drastically different reason than her most recent times.

* * *

Leon stepped into the men’s bath and spied the back of a familiar head and pair of furry ears. He grunted a short greeting as he settled into the bath near Dylas.

“You hear about Frey?” Leon asked casually as he tied his long hair up so it wouldn’t drag in the water.

“Yeah,” Dylas said, “Who hasn’t?”

Leon shrugged and then sank in up to his shoulders. “You do it?”

Dylas snorted. “Not a chance. You?” He narrowed his eyes at Leon. “I remember you two being cuddly last winter.”

Leon shook his head. “Nah. We rang in the New Year together, but that was almost four months ago. And as I understand this is a rather recent development. Besides, once she started showing a serious interest in Arthur it was hands off. I know the rules.” Leon sat back up straight. “We’re sure it isn’t Arthur’s and everyone is blowing this hugely out of proportion?”

“Well, last I checked you still had to have sex with a person to father a child with them. So it’s definitely not Arthur’s.”

“Hold up,” Leon leaned forward, mischief and curiosity sparking in his eyes, “You’re telling me that they dated for almost three months and never slept together.”

Dylas shrugged. “I’m not judging. Every relationship moves at its own pace. If they wanted to take things slow, that’s their business.”

Leon laughed again and then lowered his voice conspiratorially. “You don’t think the dear Thirteenth Prince of Norad is still a virgin do you?”

“No, I don’t think so. I just think that with his royal upbringing, he’s a little more careful than most people about creating illegitimate children.”

“That’s fair,” Leon conceded with a shrug. “So who do you think it is?”

Dylas shrugged in response. “Who knows? Of the guys she has dated or is really friendly with, if you count out me, you, and Arthur, that leaves Vishnal, Doug, and Kiel.”

Leon hummed thoughtfully. Neither one of the three seemed particularly likely to have encouraged Frey to cheat on Arthur, but then again, the whole situation on its own was not particularly likely. In the few weeks that the rumor had been making its way around town, Leon had been watching Frey carefully. Predictably, she and Arthur were not on speaking terms at the moment, and nobody had come forward to take responsibility for the child he created. At least not that he heard, and most gossip filtered through the inn before being set loose into town. Illuminats had done her detective due diligence and interrogated every male in town and had turned up nothing – but Leon hadn’t really expected her to. She wasn’t exactly a subtle investigator. Frey’s girlfriends had flocked around her and closed rank in solidarity, but even with their support it was clear Frey was not handling things well as the weeks had crawled past with no new news.

Somebody was now _intentionally_ hurting Frey and Leon wasn’t going to stand for it.

He grinned at Dylas wickedly. “You wanna help me weed out which one of them, did it?”

It took a few days to put out the call and lay out the trap, but one night Dylas had gathered the other men in the restaurant. Porcoline had been convinced to ‘kidnap’ Arthur for a short trip out of town to meet with suppliers for the restaurant. There was no chance of the Prince walking in on their interrogation. And with the restaurant otherwise closed, the men could have the room to themselves.

To seal the mood, an evening storm had rolled in just as they gathered. Leon couldn’t help but feel he was a character in one of Illuminata’s cherished detective stories, but he kind of like it. If only he had borrowed one of her monocles, the pictured would be complete… but then again that might be going a little too far over the line.

Leon waited until they all gotten a couple drinks in them before he stood up at the head of the table. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve called you here today.” At the other end of the table, he could see Dylas rolling his eyes.

Kiel frowned slightly, “This isn’t just a ‘welcome back’ dinner?”

“No!” Leon did his best impression of Illuminata and swept an accusing finger around the table, “We’re here to figure out which one of you bastards did it.”

“Hey!” Doug barked, raising his hands. “Don’t point at me. I didn’t knock Frey up!”

Kiel choked on his drink. “Frey’s pregnant!?”

Everyone gave him blank, disbelieving stares.

“Yes,” Dylas said. “How have _you_ not heard? That’s been the hottest gossip for weeks.”

“I was in the Capital; I just got back this morning.” He looked around the table wide-eyed. “You guys are kidding, right? This is an elaborate joke.”

“Nope,” Doug said, crossing his arms. “Frey’s pregnant. Arthur’s not the father. She can’t remember who is. And I _guess,”_ he threw accusingly at Leon, “You think one of us was a shitty enough guy to actually encourage Frey to cheat on her boyfriend.”

The uproar was immediate, the accused leaping to their feet to shout their alibis.

Lightning flashed, thunder roared, and the restaurant door crashed open. The lightning illuminated a hulking figure in the doorway. All heads snapped to the door as Bado walked in with a growl, shaking rain from his face. “Agh, stupid rain.” He surveyed the scene, “All here then? Good. Saves repeating myself.” He strode to the table and looked over the others. “Alright,” he crossed his arms across his chest, “Which one of you bastards did it?”

“Asking about Frey, I suppose,” Leon surmised, mimicking Bado’s posture.

“Who else? Look, I like to stay out of other peoples’ business, but she spent half an hour crying in my shop today, and I don’t think it was the hormones. You five are the men she’s been closest with since her arrival in town. So which one of you is too cowardly to man up and admit to your mistakes.”

Everyone had an alibi. Everyone had an explanation, particularly Kiel, who hadn’t even been in Selphia for the two weeks of time Frey had lost. After an hour of going back and forth and making accusations and threats they had to reach the conclusion that none of them had done it. None of them had fathered Frey’s child.

“Well shit,” Dylas muttered, tipping his glass back and forth and letting the last sip slosh around.

None of them liked where this lack of conclusion left them.

“What now?” Vishnal asked.

“Hell if I know,” Doug said with a shrug. “Maybe it was someone from out of town, a tourist. Maybe someone she had been seeing secretly?”

The others shrugged collectively. Selphia was only so big, and even with the steady flow of tourists and traders and merchants coming through town, it would be kind of hard for anyone, much less Frey, to pull off a secret tryst behind everyone’s back. And if she had ever confided in one of her girlfriends about it, they hadn’t said anything about it. And at this point in time, she would be a pretty poor friend to keep that information to herself.

“Back to square one,” Leon grumbled. “And stuck there forever, probably. If we don’t know the guy, who’s to say he’ll even be back in town any time in the next year.”

“I guess we could watch closely and see if any tourists act strangely around Frey,” Vishnal offered, and then shook his head, “No, that wouldn’t work. Frey wouldn’t tolerate us following her.”

“Well, he’s out there somewhere,” Kiel added hopefully, “Maybe he will show up and do the right thing. I mean, the baby has to have a father. It’s not like Frey just magically got pregnant.”

Leon scoffed, “That kind of thing only happens in stories and… and ancient legends.” He sat up straight in his chair as something sparked in his memory.

“What?” Bado asked.

“I just remembered… there’s an old story, I mean, this story was _ancient_ before I became a Guardian. I don’t remember many details. I think it was a myth to explain the natural cycle of Runes, something about a Restorer coming after the Divine Dragons.” He shook his head, “I’d have to see if I could find it referenced anywhere in a text, but I feel like that myth came with a magical mystery baby. Either that or I’m getting my ancient stories mixed up.”

Doug laughed once, “Well, if it comes down to it, magical god-baby isn’t the worst explanation possible.”


End file.
